Catching Fire The Boy With The Bread
by Hermia18
Summary: It's Catching Fire, but this time its the story of the boy with the bread. What was going through his mind during the victory tour and when the quarter quell was announced? Let the 75th Hunger Games begin, and this time from Peeta's view.
1. Chapter 1

Catching Fire – The Boy With The Bread

**So this is my version of "Catching Fire" but entirely from Peeta's perspective, I hope you all like it, and please review to let me know what you think :)**

Chapter One

I'm back in the arena. I've visited it almost every night since we left it, and although I know that it's only in my head, the horror is all too real. Katniss and I are standing by the Cornucopia, not saying anything, but looking in to each others eyes. The sun is glinting and there's a light breeze, but then the scene changes horribly.

The sun disappears behind a clump of grey clouds, and we hear an ominous yowling from the forest behind us. I look behind me to look for the source of the noise, but a hideous spine chilling scream brings my head whipping back round. One of the mutts that terrorized us from the arena has Katniss round the throat. The deep brown eyes that I know once belonged to little Rue from District 11, glare at me. I stand there paralysed with horror, and in a split second those ten inch razor sharp claws flash, Katniss falls to the ground, and the mutt disappears in to the trees. I rush to Katniss's side and lean down beside her. The claws have made deep gashes in her throat, and blood is gushing from the wound. Her hand claws at the air in front of her, and I grab it.

"Please don't," I beg, "please don't leave me." My eyes are swimming with tears, and they fall in to her beautiful dark hair.

"Peeta," She gasps, making more blood more from the gaping wound. "Peeta, I'm sorry." She's become deathly pale, and a few seconds later her eye's flicker upwards and her shallow breathing stops.

That's when my own screaming starts, I cradle her body in my arms, great rasping, shaking sobs echoing from me.

My eyes snap open, my muscles tightly clenched. I'm covered in a sheen of cold sweat, my eyes stinging from the tears I shed in my sleep, and my throat sore.

I slowly tell myself that what I just experienced wasn't real, that Katniss was alive, and that we were surviving as best we could. I sit up in bed, looking over at the weak winter light creeping through the gap in the curtains of my new bedroom. I live on my own now, in my new house in the Victors Village. Katniss's mother and sister live with her, but my family needed to stay living over the bakery. To be honest I'm kind of glad to be away from it all, I find that I can bare the solitude quite well. It's only at times like this, when I awake from a particularly horrible nightmare that I want someone with me. And that person was always Katniss.

I stretch and gingerly climb out of bed; my limbs still feel tight from the excessive straining of muscles during my nightmare. Well, all of my remaining limbs, but to be honest I'm pretty much used to my new leg now. As I draw the curtains and look out of the window, it dawns on me what day it is. Today is the day we start on the victory tour, and in just several hours District 12 will be inundated with camera crews, stylists, and prep teams. Katniss and I will have to face the cameras again, but I know this time will be very different from the first. A ripple of sadness passes through me, as I think how Katniss will right now be thinking about the pretence she'll have to keep up for the next few weeks. Things had been incredibly strained between us after we got back from the games. I know that this is mostly down to me, but I so wanted it to be real. The girl on fire had never felt the same way about me.

After a quick shower I wander downstairs to the kitchen. It's taken a bit of getting used to, having all of this to myself. Going from a small house lived in my five people, to a huge house inhabited by one is a very strange experience.

Nonetheless I do what I always do after a nightmare. What I do when I want to forget. I focus my mind on baking fresh bread for the day. We've all found a way to distract ourselves from the horrors that lurk in our pasts. Katniss hunts, Haymitch drinks, and I bake.

When I'm done and the kitchen is filled with the delicious smell of freshly made bread, I check the time, and decide that I'd better go over and check that Haymitch isn't too drunk. The cameras will be here in a few hours, and Haymitch doesn't need to be seen a even more of a laughing stock.

I pick up the loaf of bread and quickly cross over to the house opposite mine, just as snow flakes start to fall from the sky. I wrinkle my nose as I get in to Haymitch's house because the smell is just putrid, no surprise really seeing as he never cleans up after himself. I'm outside the kitchen when I hear voices coming from inside.

"Look, if you wanted to be babied, you should have asked Peeta."

I walk in to the room, and find Haymitch sitting at the table, clutching a knife, and dripping wet with water. Katniss is standing over him.

"Asked me what?" I say, Katniss turns around to look at me. She looks strong and healthy, her blazing look making her look even more beautiful. I look away quickly. I cross to the table, and put the bread down, and then hold out my hand to Haymitch.

"Asked you to wake me without giving me pneumonia," says Haymitch, passing me his knife. He pulls off his filthy shirt, revealing an equally soiled undershirt, and rubs himself down with the dry part.

I smile, and douse the knife with some white liquor from a bottle on the floor. After wiping the blade clean on the end of my shirt, I start to slice the bread. I hand Haymitch the heel, and turn to look at Katniss.

"Would you like a piece?" I say.

"No, I ate at the Hob," She says. "But thank you." Her voice is formal, how its been ever since we got back.

"You're welcome," I say stiffly.

Haymitch tosses his shirt somewhere into the mess. "Brrr. You two have got a lot of warming up to do before showtime."

He's right of course. People won't be expecting two awkward people, who can barely look each other in the eye. No, they'll be expecting the star crossed lovers from District 12, together at last.

Katniss artfully ignores Haymitch's last comment, and says "Take a bath, Haymitch." Before swinging out of the window and crossing the green to her house. I silently watch her walk away, long braided hair swishing behind her. Haymitch must have noticed where I was looking, as when he speaks next it's in a gentle tone.

"Come on lad, sit down" he says. I sigh, and kick some of the debris out of the way so I can sit next to Haymitch at the kitchen table. We eat the bread in silence, that doesn't break until I get up to leave.

"What time are they coming?" Haymitch asks, in a slightly slurred voice.

"Midday Haymitch," I say shortly before walking out of his house, across the green and in to my own. I start organizing my paintings in the living room, you see all the victors have to develop a "talent" by the time the cameras come back for the victory tour. Katniss never really bothered with hers, to be fair the whole concept is a bit of a ridiculous idea. I mean, the entire country has watched you kill live on television, and now they're interested in seeing all the pointless things that you do in your spare time. I don't really mind, as I find painting gives me a bit of relief from dwelling on my darker thoughts. It's peaceful trying to mix the perfect paint colour, and seeing how they all look together on a canvas.

While I organise the paintings, I start thinking. Maybe having to pretend to be in love with me, will actually make Katniss realize that she really does love me? I shake my head, of course it won't. I'm just being wistfully stupid.

Just then I hear the sound of cars, and beeping horns outside. There's a chorus of shouted greetings, and then I hear a bang at the door.

"Let the Victory Tour begin," I think to myself darkly.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I open the door, and a flock of people burst through. My parents, and brothers go through to the kitchen where they'll be interviewed, and I give them a quick wave of greeting. Ever since I moved in to the victors village, I've seen my family at least three times a week, so there's no need for big drawn out hello's. Behind them my prep team are squealing, and then Portia comes through the door behind them.

After the normality of District 12, the appearance of my prep team is a bit of a shock. Accalia's shock of bright purple hair, and full blow whiskers, actually makes me blink several times with the perplexity of it. It doesn't help matters when I see that Septimus has dyed his hair a particularly lurid shade of neon green. They all draw me in for a tight hug.

"Peeta!" Cleopatra shrieks, "You're looking so well!" The other two nod in agreement. I smile, and thank them, looking past them all to look at the mild woman with honey blonde hair, and deep brown eyes.

"Portia," I say happily, and I go to hug her.

"Hello Peeta," She says softly back, we break apart and she looks at me. "How are you doing?"

I look away from her, "Oh I'm fine," I lie. She doesn't pursue the subject further, but she knows that I'm not telling the truth.

We go upstairs to the bathroom, and my prep team gets to work. I get my hair trimmed, nails filed, and whole body moisturised. All the while my prep team witters on, whilst I nod and agree in the right places.

"Everyone back in the Capitol is so exited for the Victory Tour!" Septimus gushes excitedly.

"Oh yes, everything's been so dull since the games finished," Cleopatra adds.

"But it's the Quarter Quell this year Peeta," Accalia gasps, "don't you feel lucky, you're first year of mentoring and it's the Quarter Quell!"

Honestly the thought of this makes me feel slightly sick. The thought of having to mentor the male tribute from District 12 seems repellent. I start to wonder how Haymitch only turned to drink and not anything stronger, after having to do the job alone for the best part of thirty years. Now I can't help but wonder which kid I'll have to mentor every time I walk past the school. I suppress a slight shudder.

When they're finished Portia comes in with a pile of neatly folded clothes. Warm blue trousers, comfortable white shirt, and a thick green jumper.

I go down to the living room, to talk them through all of my paintings. I suppose in short, I've painted the games. There's one of the huge golden Cornucopia, Clove arranging knives in her jacket, Katniss lying in the cave.

I say some pretty standard things, about how I like to capture light, and what the paintings mean to me, before they turf me out of the room to get the shots they want.

I find Effie Trinket in the hallway, wearing a bright orange wig, and looking extremely stressed out, yet happy at the same time. She kisses me on the cheek, and then totters out of the door, exclaiming,

"It's nearly time to go, I need to go and check if Katniss is ready!"

I walk in to the kitchen to find my family assembled around the table. I hug each of them in turn, whilst saying,

"I think It's nearly time for me to go, so I guess I'll see you all in a few weeks," They all smile, nod and say goodbye to me. They seem a bit subdued, but that's how its always been since I came back from the games. It's as if they see me differently now. My brothers Sol and Robus, have made fun of me because of Katniss but that was to be expected, they knew that I liked her ages ago. But my mother seems to be distancing herself from me far more lately. Portia sticks her head around the door frame, and smiles at my parents.

"Time to go Peeta," She says. I give one last wave to my parents and brothers, as Portia hands me a coat and gloves. I put them on, and as I walk out of the front door, I make out Katniss's figure through the snow making her way towards me. As she walks towards me, I fix a smile on my face, and as if she can't stand it any longer she runs to greet me.

I catch her and spin her round, laughing, but I lose my balance on my new leg, and we fall in a heap in the snow. I kiss her, the first kiss we've had in months. It makes me feel so alive, and to me it just feels right. There's a stirring in my chest, and I know that this one kiss will never satisfy me, I don't think that even a million kisses with her would do that. We break apart still laughing, and she pulls me to my feet, putting her hand in my arm, and pulling me along the way. I look at her face for a few moments, there's a worried look in her eye, but I can't really ask her about it now.

We climb in to a car that drives us to the station, and I tuck my arm around Katniss pulling her closer to me. It's strange how physically close we are, yet emotionally so far apart. To be honest during the day I try hard not to think about the mental divide between us, and on Sundays even though I know she's hunting in the woods with Gale Hawthorne I try my best to push it to the back of my mind. The images of her and Gale, laughing and smiling together don't sit well in my thoughts.

We get to the station, where there's more waving, hand holding, and kissing, before we disappear in to the train, and leave District 12 far behind.

We eat a sumptuous dinner, where Haymitch drinks pretty much everything in sight, and Effie goes on about the tight schedule we're under. We heading to District 11 first, usually it kicks off in 12 and then goes in descending district order to 1, followed by the Capitol. The victor's district is skipped and saved for very last. Since 12 puts on the least fabulous celebration — usually just a dinner for the tributes and a victory rally in the square, where nobody looks like they're having any fun — it's probably best to get us out of the way as soon as possible. This year, for the first time since Haymitch won, the final stop on the tour will be 12, and the Capitol will spring for the festivities.

I know that Katniss will be dreading going to District 11. I myself never had much to do with Thresh, and Rue, but Thresh saved Katniss's life, and well Katniss told me all about her and Rue. Somehow out of all the deaths in the arena, hers seems the most real, the most brutal.

I head back to my compartment when we've finished eating, having no desire to stay and make small talk. After changing in to some pyjamas and getting in to the huge blue bed, I realise that it's hopeless. I won't be able to sleep for hours. For these past few months back in District 12, I've been able to distance myself from the games; I've been able to half convince myself that they've all been part of a bad dream. But back on this train, it reminds me of the day when I was reaped, the despair I felt, and then the moment when I realized that Katniss's love for me was all an act. In short it makes all the terrible things that have happened far closer, and far more real.

I cross to the window, and fling it wide open, savouring the icy cold air as it hits my face. After a few minutes I sigh, slam the window shut, and go back to bed. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, and slowly, very slowly, sleep comes to me.

But the nightmares are even more vivid tonight. How many ways to I have to see Katniss die hideously. I stand paralysed as she falls from a tree covered in oozing tracker jacker stings, which burst as she hits the ground, covering me in a mixture of blood and green gunge. She lies on the ground, shrieking in agony, while I stand there powerless to stop it. And then we're both by the Cornucopia while she is mauled by those glinting claws of the mutts. I try to beat them out of the way, but they're too strong, and by the time they've finished with her, her face is unrecognisable.

I awake, yet again paralysed with fear, but this doesn't last long, as pretty soon I'm over some with shuddering sobs. I bury my face in my pillow, hoping to muffle the sound. I feel like I can't bear it anymore, the thought of losing her pervades my dreams almost every night. All I want to do is forget all of the horrors I saw in that arena, but of course my mind and the Capitol cannot allow that.

It takes a good half an hour for me to cry myself out, and when I'm finished the sun has fully risen. I go to the bathroom to clean myself up, and wipe all trace of tears from my face, and by the time I'm finished Effie knocking on my door to call me to breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I quickly dress, and make my way down to the breakfast car, to find Cinna, Portia, Haymitch and Effie sitting round the table. Effie's sipping black coffee and tutting over the schedule, whilst Haymitch is eating sullenly in silence. Portia and Cinna are chatting quietly at the end of the table, but there's someone missing.

"Where's Katniss?" I ask slightly worried, as last nights nightmares flicker in my mind.

"Oh her prep team had a lot more work to do on her, so she had breakfast earlier," says Effie, not looking up from her schedule.

"Oh okay," I say sitting down, "what kind of work?"

"A full body wax, deep hair condition, and a body moisturise," says Effie casually.

Now I think about it, I actually feel sorry Katniss, and the other girl tributes. I remember I had my little amount of facial hair waxed off in the remake centre before the games, and that was painful enough. I can't imagine how agonizing it must be to have that sensation all over your body.

I have some of the mouth-watering hot chocolate that they served on our way to the games, as well as loads of the other delicious food on offer. Including the dried plum and lamb stew, which I know to be Katniss's favourite.

I don't get long to sit and relax though. Apparently yesterday's makeover was just to get to the train, this morning I'll get the full works from my prep team. That means that I'm made to soak in tubs of foul smelling orange goo, which will supposedly soften my skin. The Accalia coats my face in a thick purple cream, and after that's washed off, I get the wax treatment too, but only slightly, to rid me of the little facial hair I have. My hair's coated in various products, and by lunch time, I'm absolutely exhausted.

When I get in to the lunch car, there's still no sign of Katniss, but Effie assures me that she'll be along soon, so we start without her. Everyone but Haymitch who is picking moodily at a muffin, has perked up, and are full of excitement about the tour. I try to join in, but my heart isn't really in it. After about ten minutes, Katniss storms in looking thoroughly miserable. I try to catch her eye, to ask her what's wrong, but she seems to be determinedly avoiding my gaze, and remains entirely focused on her soup. Even then I notice that she only eats a few spoonfuls.

The train gradually slows down, and eventually it stops altogether. Our server reports it will not just be for a fuel stop — some part has malfunctioned and must be replaced. It will require at least an hour. This sends Effie into a state. She pulls out her schedule, and starts fussing over it. I'll say one thing about Effie, she may be brilliant at getting you places on time, but she does like to be melodramatic about it. Katniss clearly feels the same way, but is in such a bad mood she can't help but voice it.

"No one cares, Effie!" She snaps. Everyone round the table turns to stare at her, and I notice a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Well, no one does!" She says, and storms out of the door. A couple of minutes later, a sort of alarm goes off, indicating that she's stormed out of the train itself.

"How very rude of her!" Effie exclaims, "here I am, the only one being remotely organised, and that's her way of thanking me? Hmph." And she pouted sullenly.

Everyone else just sits there.

"Well is no one going to go and see if she's okay?" I say angrily. Although to be honest I'm not angry at them I'm angrier at me. Because I know that my behaviour towards her has at least contributed slightly to her bad mood. I realize that I haven't been fair to her, I knew she had something with Gale, and I was jealous. It was time to go and put things right.

I got up and left them, quickly walking along the corridor and out of the open train door. When I land on the ground, I initially don't see her, and I start to get worried. But then I make out a little figure with dark hair sitting in the distance. I'm about a metre behind her when she hears my footsteps and says,

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture,"

"I'll try to keep it brief." I say, sitting down next to her. She looks at me in mild surprise.

"I thought you were Haymitch," she says.

"No, he's still working on that muffin. Bad day, huh?" I ask.

"It's nothing," She says quietly. I take a deep breath,

"Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry."

She looks slightly taken aback, which only makes me feel worse. I know that I've behaved terribly.

"I'm sorry, too," She says, even though she's got nothing to be sorry for.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends," I say.

"Okay," She says, but I can still tell that something is wrong.

"So what's wrong?" I ask, and she starts picking at a clump of weeds, still not saying anything.

"Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine ... but I don't know what your favourite colour is?" I say with a smile. To my relief I see a smile creeping on to her lips too.

"Green. What's yours?" She says, well that's appropriate all the time she spends in the woods among the green leaves.

"Orange," I say.

"Orange? Like Effie's hair?" She says.

"A bit more muted," I say. "More like ... sunset." Dusk was always my favourite time of day, I just loved the colours that would appear in the sky. It was just soft, glowing, and beautiful. She looks like she wants to say something more serious, but when she speaks it's just more small talk.

"You know, everyone's always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them," She says.

"Well, I've got a whole train car full." I get up and offer her my hand. "Come on."

She takes my hand, and we walk back to the train together, really it's the closest emotionally we've been since the arena.

"I've got to apologize to Effie first." Katniss says, when we get back to the train door. I suppress a laugh, remembering Effie's reaction to Katniss's outburst.

"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick," I tell her.

When we get back to the dining car everyone else is still at lunch. Katniss gives Effie an apology where she really does lay it on thick in my mind, but knowing Effie she probably thinks that it's just acceptable. Effie accepts graciously however, saying how it's clear Katniss must be under a lot of pressure. In the end she gets away with just five minutes of lecturing on how important it is to keep to the schedule, and then we go down a few cars, to where my paintings are being kept.

I think it shocks her at first, seeing how I've painted the games. It helps though, it's as if when I paint them out I become less afraid of them. Some you wouldn't get right away, if you hadn't been with me in the arena. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. A pair of hands, my own, digging for roots. Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn, of the Cornucopia. Clove arranging the knives inside her jacket. One of the mutts, unmistakably the blond, green-eyed one meant to be Glimmer, snarling as it makes its way toward us. And Katniss. She is everywhere. High up in a tree. Beating a shirt against the stones in the stream. Lying unconscious in a pool of blood. And one of her emerging from a grey mist, that I know matches her eyes exactly.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"I hate them," She says, "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it, back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?"

"I see them every night," I say. She's silent for a few moments.

"Me, too. Does it help? To paint them out?" She says.

"I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am," I say. "But they haven't gone anywhere." I admit.

"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't." She's right there, Haymitch never sleeps in the dark, and I'm sure that it's the reason why he sleeps with a knife in his hand.

"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand," I say. "So you really hate them?"

"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really," She says, "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it."

I laugh, and the train gives a lurch forward, and I see land rushing past us.

"Later. Come on, we're almost to District Eleven. Let's go take a look at it." I say.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

We go down to the last car on the train. There are chairs and couches to sit on, but what's wonderful is that the back windows retract into the ceiling so you're riding outside, in the fresh air, and you can see a wide sweep of the landscape. Huge open fields with herds of dairy cattle grazing in them. So unlike our own heavily wooded home.

We slow slightly and I think we might be coming in for another stop, when a fence rises up before us. Towering at least thirty-five feet in the air and topped with wicked coils of barbed wire, it makes ours back in District 12 look childish. The effect is highly intimidating, and one look at the heavy metal plates at the bottom tell me that for the people of District 11 there is no straying outside of the District boundary. My eyes flicker up, and that's when I see the huge watch towers, each armed with about five guards each. I can't help but think how out of place they look, set in the fields full of beautiful wildflowers.

It's so different to what I was expecting; a slightly larger version of District 12, but greener, with far more tree's and fields. Not this huge menacing place, where it's clear that the Peacekeepers are far stricter.

"That's something different," I say. Katniss is looking just as shocked as I am, I would have thought that little Rue would have told her a bit about District 11 back in the arena, but clearly Katniss was expecting something highly dissimilar. Now the crops begin, stretched out as far as the eye can see. Men, women, and children wearing straw hats to keep off the sun straighten up, turn our way, take a moment to stretch their backs as they watch our train go by. Tiny children, who can't be any older than five or six are working too, which again seems so strange to me, as in District 12 only over eighteen's work in the mines. I guess they need every hand they can get for the harvest. Shacks, that can be no bigger than the bathroom in my house back in the Victors Village, spring up here and there in little communities.

On and on it goes, the place is so much bigger than I ever anticipated. I start to wonder at the population, at school they were always very vague about other Districts. I start to think how the kids we see on screen every year for the reaping, can only be a sample of the real number that live here. What do they do? Have preliminary drawings? Pick the winners ahead of time and make sure they're in the crowd? How exactly did Thresh and Rue end up on that stage.

"How many people do you think live here?" I ask Katniss, but she just shakes her head at me.

The District just keeps on going, and eventually Effie comes in to tell us to dress, so we go to our separate compartments without complaint. I sit in my bedroom, and let my prep team do my hair, and powder my face. Portia comes in and hands me my clothes: a light white shirt, and soft light brown trousers, with a thin leather belt.

Effie gets Katniss and me together to go through the schedule one last time, and even though we've established ourselves firmly as just friends, I get a little jolt in my stomach at the sight of how pretty she looks in an orange dress patterned with autumn leaves.

In some districts the victors ride through the city while the residents cheer. But in 11 — maybe because there's not much of a city to begin with, things being so spread out, or maybe because they don't want to waste so many people while the harvest is on — the public appearance is confined to the square. It takes place before their Justice Building, a huge marble structure. Once, it must have been a thing of beauty, but time has taken its toll. Even on television you can see ivy overtaking the crumbling facade, the sag of the roof. The square itself is ringed with run-down storefronts, most of which are abandoned.

Our entire public performance will be staged outside on what Effie refers to as the veranda, the tiled expanse between the front doors and the stairs that's shaded by a roof supported by columns. Katniss and I will be introduced, the mayor of 11 will read a speech in our honour, and we'll respond with a scripted thank-you provided by the Capitol. If a victor had any special allies among the dead tributes, it is considered good form to add a few personal comments as well. Even though I never really knew either Thresh or Rue, I've got my personal comments written on a card in my back pocket. I've got a lot to thank them for, as both of them kept Katniss alive in the arena, and if it hadn't been for them I doubt that I would have made it home. Katniss says how whenever she tried to write something it just wouldn't come, so with some slight alterations my speech can count for both of us.

There's no welcoming, committee on the platform, just a squad of eight Peacekeepers who direct us into the back of an armoured truck. Effie sniffs as the door clanks closed behind us. "Really, you'd think we were all criminals," she says, living in the Capitol I guess Effie has no experience of being treated inferiorly by Peacekeepers.

The truck lets us out at the back of the Justice Building. We're hurried inside. I can smell an excellent meal being prepared, but it doesn't block out the odors of mildew and rot. They've left us no time to look around. As. we make a beeline for the front entrance, I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. I realise that within seconds we're going to be broadcast live to the entire country, so I grab Katniss's left hand. Yes this is partly because of the star crossed lover's thing, but mostly because it makes me feel so much safer, and less alone.

The mayor's introducing us as the massive doors open with a groan.

"Big smiles!" Effie says, and gives us a nudge. Our feet start moving forward.

There's loud applause, but none of the other responses we got in the Capitol, the cheers and whoops and whistles. We walk across the shaded verandah until the roof runs out and we're standing at the top of a big flight of marble stairs in the glaring sun. As my eyes adjust, I see the buildings on the square have been hung with banners that help cover up their neglected state. It's packed with people, but again, just a fraction of the number who live here.

As usual, a special platform has been constructed at the bottom of the stage for the families of the dead tributes. On Thresh's side, there's only an old woman with a hunched back and a tall, muscular girl I'm guessing is his sister. On Rue's side, you can see grief etched painfully in every face, her parents and five younger siblings, stand small and hunched, their loss all too apparent.

The applause dies out and the mayor gives the speech in our honour. Two little girls come up with tremendous bouquets of flowers. We both do our part of the scripted reply, and then I do my personal comments. It would seem crude to pull the card out of my back pocket, so I leave it where it is.

"I never knew Thresh or Rue personally, but they've left me in a debt that I can never hope to repay. I know that they were both such strong incredible people, who both made it in to the final eight, but they kept Katniss alive. And by doing that they kept me alive, because I could never have hoped to go on without her. I want to thank both them, and their families, and express my intense sorrow at your loss."

I hesitate for a few moments, a sudden thought coming over me. I think of the decrepit shacks we passed on the way here, and how desperate both families must be feeling.

"It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we'd like for each of the tributes' families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives."

The crowd gasp in response. I have no idea whether what I've just done is legal or not, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. As for the families, they just stare at us in shock. Their lives were changed forever when Thresh and Rue were lost, but this gift will change them again. A month of tribute winnings can easily provide for a family for a year. As long as we live, they will not starve.

Katniss looks at me and I give her a sad smile, she leans up on tiptoe to kiss me. The mayor steps forward and presents us both with plaques. The ceremony is about to finish when Katniss steps forward suddenly.

"Wait! Wait please!" She says loudly, stumbling forward.

"I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven," She says. She looks at the pair of women on Thresh's side. "I only ever spoke to Thresh one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn't know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone's terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I respected him for that." She turns to Rue's family.

"But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim." Her voice is getting steadily quieter. "Thank you for your children." She raises her chin to address the crowd. "And thank you all for the bread."

I stand slightly stunned, but nonetheless pleased that Katniss spoke up for herself. I know that she would have regretted not properly saying thank you to the families. There's a long pause, and then I see an old man in red overalls look directly at Katniss, and whistle a four note melody. I've never heard it before but Katniss told me about Rue's signal melody, and I know that this must be it.

What happens next is not an accident. It is too well executed to be spontaneous, because it happens in complete unison. Every person in the crowd presses the three middle fingers of their left hand against their lips and extends them to her. The gesture moves me, clearly Katniss managed to connect with District 11 deeply.

I hear a static in my ear, as our microphones are cut off. We accept a final round of applause, before I lead Katniss back in to the justice building. I look at her, she's blinking slowly her eyes wide.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

"Just dizzy. The sun was so bright," She replies, and her eyes flicker to the bouquet I'm still holding. "I forgot my flowers," she mumbles.

"I'll get them," I say, thinking that it would do her good to go and sit down for a while.

"I can," She answers. In the end we both end up outside on the veranda. We see the whole thing.

A pair of Peacekeepers are dragging the man who whistled to the top of the steps. They force him to his knees, and there's a huge crack, as they pull out a gun and send the bullet in to his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Cold shock rushes through me at what I've just seen. The man has only just crumpled to the ground when a wall of white Peacekeeper uniforms blocks our view. Several of the soldiers have automatic weapons held lengthwise as they push us back toward the door.

One of them pushing Katniss aggressively, and I come to my senses.

"We're going!" I say, shoving the Peacekeeper that's pressing on her. "We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss." My arm encircles her waist, and I lead her back in to the justice building. Her eyes are wide, and she looks terrified. The doors slam shut behind us, and we hear the Peacekeepers moving back towards the crowd.

Haymitch, Effie, Portia, and Cinna wait under a static-filled screen that's mounted on the wall, their faces tight with anxiety.

"What happened?" Effie hurries over. "We lost the feed just after Katniss's beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard a gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!"

"Nothing happened, Effie. An old truck backfired," I say evenly. We weren't supposed to see what we did, and it's best to keep it hidden from Effie's eyes.

Two more shots fire outside, and a jolt of dread runs over me like cold water.

"Both of you. With me," says Haymitch. Peeta and I follow him, leaving the other's far behind.

The Peacekeepers who are stationed around the Justice Building take little interest in our movements now that we are safely inside. We ascend a magnificent curved marble staircase. At the top, there's a long hall with worn carpet on the floor. Double doors stand open, welcoming us into the first room we encounter. The ceiling must be twenty feet high. Designs of fruit and flowers are carved into the molding and small, fat children with wings look down at us from every angle. Our evening clothes hang on racks against the wall. This room has been prepared for our use, but we're barely there long enough to drop off our gifts. Then Haymitch yanks the microphones from our chests, stuffs them beneath a couch cushion, and waves us on.

I'm starting to wonder how on earth Haymitch knows where he's going, because as far as know he's only ever been here once, on his own victory tour. Nonetheless he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staircases and increasingly narrow halls. At times he has to stop and force a door. By the protesting squeak of the hinges you can tell it's been a long time since it was opened. Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. It's a huge place filled with broken furniture, piles of books and ledgers, and rusty weapons. The coat of dust blanketing everything is so thick it's clear it hasn't been disturbed for years. Light struggles to filter in through four grimy square windows set in the sides of the dome. Haymitch kicks the trapdoor shut and turns on us. "What happened?" he asks.

Katniss is still looking wide eyed with shock, so I tell Haymitch about the whistle, the salute, and then the murder of the old man. I'm so confused as to why it happened, it was just a harmless whistle, and District 11 paying their respects to Katniss. Well clearly is runs deeper than this.

"What's going on, Haymitch?" I ask.

"It will be better coming from you," Haymitch says to Katniss.

She tells me everything, how President Snow is livid with her because of the berries, and the unrest within the Districts. Then she tells me about how Gale kissed her, and that lights the spark to my anger. I hate this game that her and Haymitch play, leaving me out of everything. It just makes me feel stupid, and insignificant, like I don't even matter. Then it dawns on me, how I've made it worse, by offering the families the victory money. How it might as well be my fault that three people are dead. The fear takes over, if President Snow is angry then my family and friends are in just as much danger.

"I was supposed to fix things on this tour. Make everyone who had doubted believe I acted out of love. Calm things down. But obviously, all I've done today is. get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished." Katniss finishes, slumping on to the old sofa.

"Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money," I retort, it's as if saying it has made the reality dawn on me even more, and suddenly the anger and frustration burns up inside me, and I lash out at a lamp sending it across the room where is shatters on the floor.

"This has to stop. Right now. This — this—game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I'm too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them." I shout.

"It's not like that, Peeta—" she begins, clearly shocked at my outburst.

"It's exactly like that!" I yell at her. "I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead as yours if we don't pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, don't I even rate the truth from you?"

"You're always so reliably good, Peeta," says Haymitch. "So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn't want to disrupt that."

"Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today. What do you think is going to happen to Rue's and Thresh's families? Do you think they'll get their share of our winnings? Do you think I gave them a bright future? Because I think they'll be lucky if they survive the day!"

I pick up a statue and hurl that across the room too, anger taking over every impulse within me.

"He's right, Haymitch," She says. "We were wrong not to tell him. Even back in the Capitol." Somehow hearing her say this out loud, actually admit that they were wrong, calms me down a bit.

"Even in the arena, you two had some sort of system worked out, didn't you?" I say slightly quieter, "Something I wasn't part of."

"No. Not officially. I just could tell what Haymitch wanted me to do by what he sent, or didn't send," She says.

"Well, I never had that opportunity. Because he never sent me anything until you showed up," I retort.

"Look, boy—" Haymitch begins.

"Don't bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I'd have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we're very good. We all know I'm better than Katniss in front of the cameras. No one needs to coach me on what to say. But I have to know what I'm walking into,"

"From now on, you'll be fully informed," Haymitch promises.

"I better be," I say, and I don't look back at either of them as I leave the room.

I don't stop until I've reached the rooms assigned to me for the day. I breathe deeply thinking about all that I said. Then I start to feel guilty. The way I stormed at Katniss and Haymitch was unacceptable, and cold shame washes over me. But another feeling is playing on my mind too, and that feeling is jealousy. She admitted that Gale kissed her, and I'm starting wonder whether that was the first time he did it.

To make me feel even worse after half an hour Haymitch comes in. I don't even let him open his mouth before I start talking.

"Look you don't have to shout at me, I feel bad enough as it is." I say. Haymitch sits down beside me on the sofa.

"I think that you were perfectly within your right to shout at me, but yes, you were wrong to shout at Katniss. Remember she was only ever operating under my orders."

I nod, "It's just that I was so frustrated about you two planning things without me, and…" I hesitate for a few moments, "I wanted it to be real Haymitch." He just looks at me, and he knows what I'm talking about. He doesn't say anything else until he's at the door.

"Just remember Peeta, it's not like you haven't kept things from her in the past," and then he leaves. He's right of course; I remember how angry Katniss was after our interviews. Maybe we're more similar then we think.

I don't talk as my prep team gets me ready for dinner. I feel like my head will explode with the amount of thoughts running around in it.

When we all assemble to go down to the dinner, I can see Effie is out of sorts. Surely, Haymitch hasn't told her about what happened in the square. I wouldn't be surprised if Cinna and Portia know, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to leave Effie out of the bad-news loop. It doesn't take long to hear about the problem, though.

Effie runs through the evening's schedule, then tosses it aside. "And then, thank goodness, we can all get on that train and get out of here," she says.

"Is something wrong, Effie?" asks Cinna.

"I don't like the way we've been treated. Being stuffed into trucks and barred from the platform. And then, about an hour ago, I decided to look around the Justice Building. I'm something of an expert in architectural design, you know," she says.

"Oh, yes, I've heard that," says Portia before the pause gets too long.

"So, I was just having a peek around because district ruins are going to be all the rage this year, when two Peacemakers showed up and ordered me back to our quarters. One of them actually poked me with her gun!" says Effie.

Of course this is a direct result of Haymitch, Katniss and I disappearing off earlier. Effie looks so distressed, that Katniss actually gives her a hug.

"That's awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn't go to the dinner at all. At least until they've apologized." She says.

Of course Effie would never agree to this, but she brightens at the validation of her complaint.

"No, I'll manage. It's part of my job to weather the ups and downs. And we can't let you two miss your dinner," she says. "But thank you for the offer, Katniss."

Effie arranges us in formation for our entrance. First the prep teams, then her, the stylists, Haymitch. Katniss and I, of course, bring up the rear.

Somewhere below, musicians begin to play. As the first wave of our little procession begins down the steps, Katniss and I join hands.

"Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions," I say. "And it isn't as if I haven't kept things from you in the past." I feel like I need to explain.

"I think I broke a few things myself after that interview." She says

"Just an urn," I say.

"And your hands. There's no point to it anymore, though, is there? Not being straight with each other?" She says.

"No point," I agree. I hesitate for a few moments, as we stand at the top of the stairs giving Haymitch the fifteen step lead that Effie instructed, something else is still playing on my mind.

"Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?" I say tentatively. She looks shocked with the question. To be honest with everything else that's happened today I'm kind of shocked myself, that I chose to ask her such a question.

"Yes," she says.

"That's fifteen. Let's do it," I say, as a little jolt of relief awakes inside me.

A light hits us, and I put on the most dazzling smile I can.

We descend the steps and are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it's the same. Wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds. Listen to a speech in our honor. Give a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol gave us, never any personal additions now. Sometimes a brief tour: a glimpse of the sea in one district, towering forests in another, ugly factories, fields of wheat, stinking refineries. Dress in evening clothes. Attend dinner. Train.

During ceremonies, we are solemn and respectful but always linked together, by our hands, our arms. At dinners, we are borderline delirious in our love for each other. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone. On the train, we are quietly miserable as we try to assess what effect we might be having.

Even without our personal speeches to trigger dissent— needless to say the ones we gave in District 11 were edited out before the event was broadcast—you can feel something in the air, the rolling boil of a pot about to run over. Not everywhere. Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors' ceremonies. But in others — particularly 8, 4, and 3 — there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. District 5 is particularly uncomfortable, seeing the faces of the family of the girl that I killed, is not an experience I ever want to repeat again.

While I'm able to cope relatively well under the pressure –despite the recurring nightmares- Katniss is starting suffer. Cinna is having to take all of her clothes in around the waist, as her weight plummets. Effie starts giving her pills to sleep, but I can hear her screaming in her sleep, even from my room. I manage to wake her up and calm her down, but I don't want to leave her so I climb in to her bed and holds her until she falls asleep again. It starts to become a nightly arrangement. It calms me down too. Whenever I awake paralysed with fear from a nightmare, and see her face on the pillow next to me, I feel instantly better, and less afraid. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other's arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.

District 2 is an even more terrible experience, as Cato and Clove may well have made it home if Katniss and I hadn't. Their families have a kind of ferocity on their faces, giving us burning looks of fury and grief.

I know that District 1 will be terrible for Katniss, seeing as she killed both Marvel and Glimmer. She looks down at her feet the entire time. I avoid looking at the families too, seeing as I actively worked against the career group, to keep Katniss alive.

By the time we reach the Capitol, we are desperate. We make endless appearances to adoring crowds. There is no danger of an uprising here among the privileged, among those whose names are never placed in the reaping balls, whose children never die for the supposed crimes committed generations ago. We don't need to convince anybody in the Capitol of our love but hold to the slim hope that we can still reach some of those we failed to convince in the districts. Whatever we do seems too little, too late.

We're back in our old quarters at the training centre when Katniss suggests the public marriage proposal. I agree to it, but disappear off to my room, not reappearing for hours.

I should be happy right? I'm going to marry the girl I've loved since we were five. We're going to live together in the Victory Village. Only I'm not. I'm miserable, because we're both living a lie. I think back to the days in the cave, and just after we'd won the Games. How happy I was, absolutely euphoric, I thought I was going to burst with joy. Until it was ripped out of me. I wanted it to be real.

I lie on the bed, and the tears come before I can stop them. I wipe them away angrily, trying not to think about Katniss, but thinking of nothing else.

That night, on the stage before the Training Center, we bubble our way through a list of questions. Caesar Flickerman, in his twinkling midnight blue suit, his hair, eyelids, and lips still dyed powder blue, flawlessly guides us through the interview. My heart is pounding the whole time, my palms sweating. I try not to let it show, concentrating on the right moment to make the proposal.

"So what does the future hold for you two?" Caesar asks, with a smile. I know that this is the moment. I get down on one knee, pour out my heart to her, and beg her to marry me.

She accepts of course. Caesar is beside himself, the Capitol audience is hysterical, shots of crowds around Panem show a country besotted with happiness. Happiness that I should be rejoicing in too, but I just can't.

President Snow himself makes a surprise visit to congratulate us. He shakes my hand, and I notice that his is ice cold.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I flex my hand, and President Snow moves over to congratulate Katniss. He easily silences the audience and says, "What do you think about us throwing them a wedding right here in the Capitol?"

I keep the smile hitched on my face, trying to convince myself that it's all real. That me and Katniss are going to go and live happily ever after.

Caesar Flickerman asks if the president has a date in mind.

"Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss's mother," says he President. Straight after we got off the train after the Games, the reporters asked Katniss's mother what she thought of her new boyfriend, and she replied that, while I was the very model of what a young man should be, she wasn't old enough to have any boyfriend at all. I suppose it gave us an excuse to be a bit more reserved with each other back in District 12, but there's no chance of that anymore.

"Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you're thirty." He laughs, and puts his arm around her shoulders

"You'll probably have to pass a new law," She says with a giggle.

"If that's what it takes," says the president with conspiratorial good humour.

The party, held in the banquet room of President Snow's mansion, has no equal. The forty-foot ceiling has been transformed into the night sky, and the stars look exactly as they do at home. I suppose they look the same from the Capitol, but who would know? There's always too much light from the city to see the stars here. About halfway between the floor and the ceiling, musicians float on what look like fluffy white clouds, but I can't see what holds them aloft. Traditional dining tables have been replaced by innumerable stuffed sofas and chairs, some surrounding fireplaces, others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, so that people can eat and drink and do whatever they please in the utmost comfort. There's a large tiled area in the center of the room that serves as everything from a dance floor, to a stage for the performers who come and go, to another spot to mingle with the flamboyantly dressed guests.

But the real star of the evening is the food. Tables laden with delicacies line the walls. Everything you can think of, and things you have never dreamed of, lie in wait. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savoury fruits and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.

"I want to taste everything in the room," Katniss says. She seems upbeat, happy almost. I look at her, nothing has happened between the last time we spoke apart from the proposal. Is it possible that she's actually happy about it? That we've managed to pull it all off, and subdued the Districts? The thought brightens me. I cover my puzzled expression quickly, seeing as we're on camera.

"Then you'd better pace yourself," I say.

"Okay, no more than one bite of each dish," She says, but her resolve is broken almost immediately at the first table, which has twenty or so soups, when I encounter a creamy pumpkin brew sprinkled with slivered nuts and tiny black seeds. I tastes delicious.

"I could just eat this all night!" She exclaims.

Throughout the evening we're sought out, even though we make no effort to find company. Everyone wants a piece of this happy couple.

Later in the evening three people, who can only be Katniss's prep team descends on us, apparently delighted at being invited to such a prestigious event.

"Why aren't you eating?" Asks a woman who has dyed her entire body a shade of pea green.

"I have been, but I can't hold another bite," She says. They all laugh as if that's the silliest thing they've ever heard.

"No one lets that stop them!" says a man with corkscrew orange curls. They lead us over to a table that holds tiny stemmed wineglasses filled with clear liquid. "Drink this!"

Intrigued I take a sip, and they all lose it.

"Not here!" shrieks the green woman.

"You have to do it in there," says a woman with spiky aqua hair, pointing to doors that lead to the toilets. "Or you'll get it all over the floor!"

I look at the glass, and put it together, thoroughly repulsed, "You mean this will make me puke?"

The prep team laughs hysterically. "Of course, so you can keep eating," says the green woman. "I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?"

I set the glass back on the table. I feel disgusted, and it's get me thinking. I remember seeing Katniss's skeletal body slumped against the apple tree in my back garden all those years ago. How right now people in District 12 are dying of starvation, and here people are vomiting for the pleasure of filling their stomachs again. It can't go on, the Games, the fear, the hunger. Maybe we were wrong about trying to subdue the Districts…

"Come on, Katniss, let's dance." I say quickly. We move on to the dance floor, and I pull her close to me, moving in circles. We're quiet for a while, until I can't hold my thoughts in any longer.

"You go along, thinking you can deal with it, thinking maybe they're not so bad, and then you—" I cut myself off, wary at the number of people around us.

"Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment," She says. "Really, this is nothing by comparison."

"I know. I know that. It's just sometimes I can't stand it anymore. To the point where ... I'm not sure what I'll do." I pause, then whisper, "Maybe we were wrong, Katniss."

"About what?" She asks.

"About trying to subdue things in the districts," I say.

Her head turns swiftly from side to side, but no one seems to have heard. The camera crew got sidetracked at a table of shellfish, and the couples dancing around us are either too drunk or too self-involved to notice.

"Sorry," I say, seeing how much I've alarmed her.

"Save it for home," She tells me.

Just then Portia appears with a large man who looks vaguely familiar. She introduces him as Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemaker. He asks me if he can steal Katniss for a dance. Recovering my camera face, I pass her over, warning him not to get too attached.

I leave her too it, wondering across the room. I come across Effie, who as usual is examining the schedule.

"Oh Peeta," she says a little flustered, "we have to be back at the train for one o'clock," and then she rushes off to talk to some more Capitol citizens.

I stumble across a table of elaborately decorated cakes. I admire them knowingly, and by the time Katniss has found me again, bakers have come in from the kitchen especially to talk about icing with me.

"Effie said we have to be on the train at one. I wonder what time it is," I tell her, glancing round to for a clock.

"Almost midnight," she replies, plucking a chocolate flower from cake and nibbling on it.

"Time to say thank you and farewell!" trills Effie at my elbow. We collect Cinna and Portia, and she escorts us around to say good-bye to important people, then herds us to the door.

"Shouldn't we thank President Snow?" I ask. "It's his house."

"Oh, he's not a big one for parties. Too busy," says Effie. "I've already arranged for the necessary notes and gifts to be sent to him tomorrow. There you are!" Effie gives a little wave to two Capitol attendants who have an inebriated Haymitch propped up between them.

We travel through the streets of the Capitol in a car with darkened windows. Behind us, another car brings the prep teams. The throngs of people celebrating are so thick it's slow going. But Effie has this all down to a science, and at exactly one o'clock we are back on the train and it's pulling out of the station.

Haymitch is deposited in his room. Cinna orders tea and we all take seats around the table while Effie rattles her schedule papers and reminds us we're still on tour. "There's the Harvest Festival in District Twelve to think about. So I suggest we drink our tea and head straight to bed." No one argues.

It's one of the rare nights where I have a completely dreamless sleep. I didn't have to watch anyone die, or anyone hurt, or re-live the torture of those days in the arena. So did Katniss, she didn't wake me up thrashing or screaming. I'm relieved that we both got one night of peace. It's late morning by the time I wake up, with Katniss's head resting on my arm. She wakes up an hour later turning to look at me.

"No nightmares," I say.

"What?" She asks.

"You didn't have any nightmares last night," I say.

"I had a dream, though," She says. "I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice."

"Where did she take you?" I say, brushing her hair off her forehead.

"I don't know. We never arrived," She says. "But I felt happy."

"Well, you slept like you were happy," I say.

"Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" She asks.

"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror," I explain.

"You should wake me," She says.

"It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you," he says. "I'm okay once I realize you're here." She looks slightly uncomfortable at my response, but I'm just being honest.

"Be worse when we're home and I'm sleeping alone again," I say.

The agenda for District 12 includes a dinner at Mayor Undersee's house tonight and a victory rally in the square during the Harvest Festival tomorrow. We always celebrate the Harvest Festival on the final day of the Victory Tour, but usually it means a meal at home or with a few friends if you can afford it. This year it will be a public affair, and since the Capitol will be throwing it, everyone in the whole district will have full bellies.

Most of our prepping will take place at the mayor's house, since we're back to being covered in furs for outdoor appearances. We're only at the train station briefly, to smile and wave as we pile into our car. We don't even get to see our families until the dinner tonight.

Katniss and I are sent to separate rooms to be prepped for the dinner. Septimus, Cleopatra, and Accalia dominate every possibility of conversation with the party last night. I wonder how many times they made themselves sick just for fun. I didn't actually see them all night, and I'm kind of glad about it. By the time I see Katniss again she's looking breath taking in a floor length silver gown. Although she's acting normally, there's something about her that I can't quite put my finger on. Like she's trying to hide something.

The camera's leave, Effie, the prep teams, Portia and Cinna all say their goodbyes. Of course, they'll all be back in just a few short months when we return to the Capitol for the quarter quell. Where I'll have to act as a mentor. But for now it's finally at an end, and we're left to return to normality. Although I'm not quite sure what normality really is anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The nightmares come back in full force tonight. Katniss and I are lying in the cave, water dripping through the cracks in the ceiling, and then we hear an almighty scraping and snarling. The rocks are ripped apart, and a wolf mutt that must be about seven feet tall looms above us. One look at the spiky blonde fur, glistening eyes, and ferocious snarl tell me that it's Cato. Apart from ourselves he's the one tribute we didn't see in mutt form. But I'm seeing it now. He lifts Katniss clean of the ground.

I watch in horror, as he rips her apart with those ten inch claws. Her screams of agony are still ringing in my ears as I wake. Its Sunday, the first one after the Harvest Festival, and I'm still not used to waking up on my own. Whereas on the train I would see her lying next to me, and feel instant relief, now it takes a lot longer.

As usual I try to keep busy, baking some fresh bread in the morning, and sketching out some plans for paintings.

As early afternoon breaks, I decide to head in to town to see my friends who still live there. I'm just turning the corner on to the town square, when I hear my name.

"Peeta!"

I turn around, and see a plump pasty faced girl with long blonde hair.

"Delly!" I exclaim, and I run to greet her. Delly and I have known each other since childhood. Her parents run the shoe shop across the square from the bakery, so we know each other pretty well. In all those years I've barely ever seen her without a smile on her face, she has the ability to see the good in anybody and everybody, giving everyone her usual friendly smile.

She hugs me, and then steps back looking at me.

"How are you?" She says looking concerned. I laugh and say,

"Oh I'm fine Delly, glad to be home," She doesn't look convinced though. She gasps,

"Oh I nearly forgot! Congratulations on the wedding!" She squeals in delight, "You much be so happy Peeta!"

We prattle on about my upcoming wedding, and my new life in the Victors Village, steering well clear of the actual topic of The Hunger Games. I bid her goodbye outside the bakery, and go through the front door setting off the bell.

I breathe in deeply, taking in the rich smell of bread. No ones in the front of the shop at first but at the sound of the bell I hear footsteps coming in from the back.

My father bustles in carrying a heavy tray of bread, at the sight of me he smiles, and sets in down. When I first saw my family after the Victory tour my father was delighted about my proposal. I know that he always liked Katniss, and of course he knew her mother when they were kids. My brothers made fun of me of course, but that was inevitable. But my mother greeted me with pursed lips and a disapproving expression. She may live next to me in the Victors Village, but I know that my mother still see's her as the girl from the seam, and therefore unsuitable marriage material for her son. I couldn't care less what she thinks to be honest.

I'm surprised that the shop is empty, it's Sunday and usually it's all hands on deck.

"Where's everyone else?" I ask my father.

"Oh you're brothers snuck off very unsubtly to go and meet some girls, and you're mothers lying down with a headache." He answers.

"I'll stay and help then," I say rolling up my sleeves.

It's nice spending the afternoon with my father, I know it sounds bad but out of all of my family he's the one I get on the best with. I think that he understands how I feel. My parent's marriage was never great, and I know that he was really in love with Katniss's mother. We were both just too spineless to tell the women we loved until it was too late. Well I suppose it's not too late for me seeing as I'm marrying her. But maybe if I'd gone out and spoken to her on the day I gave her the bread, I would have been able to win her heart before Gale even got there. But it doesn't do to dwell on the past, it's the present I've got to worry about.

"What are you doing this evening son?" My father asks just as I'm finishing.

"Nothing, why?" I ask

"Do want to come over for dinner? See your mother and your brothers." He says.

I agree, I need to keep busy, and I haven't seen the rest of my family much since I got back. It's late afternoon by the time I get back to the Victors Village, so I kill the time until I have to go back down to the bakery by painting. I try to re-create the twenty four tributes standing around the Cornucopia at the beginning of the games, but I just can't wait get the way the sun glinted of the shiny golden metal.

The suns just going down as I leave my house and make my way down the road from the Victors Village. I run in to a rather agitated looking Katniss just as I'm leaving. There's only one place she could have been. Sunday is the one day that Gale gets off from the mines.

"Been hunting?" I ask

"Not really." She lies "Going to town?" she asks.

"Yes. I'm supposed to eat dinner with my family," I say

"Well, I can at least walk you in." She says. This is strange in itself, we usually haven't spent any time alone since the Victory Tour. Maybe she wants to tell me something. I shoot a sideways look at her, and see that she's chewing her lip nervously. Something is definitely wrong. We're nearing the square when the words rush out.

"Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?" She says very quickly. I take her arm, and we come to a stop.

"Depends on why you're asking." I say.

"President Snow wasn't convinced by me. There's an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out," She says.

"By 'we' do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?" I ask, thinking of Gale.

"My family. Yours, if they want to come. Haymitch, maybe," She says.

"What about Gale?" I ask.

"I don't know. He might have other plans," She says, not meeting my gaze.

I shake my head, a give a small smile, "I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I'll go."

"You will?" She says.

"Yeah. But I don't think for a minute you will," I say truthfully, because I know there's no way she'll go without Gale.

She jerks her arm away, "Then you don't know me. Be ready. It could be any time." She takes off, leaving me walking a few steps behind her.

"Katniss," I say, but she doesn't slow down. "Katniss, hold up." She kicks a dirty, frozen chunk of snow off the path and lets me catch up. "I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won't be making things worse for everyone." The I hear something, a sharp intake of breath, and a buzzing coming from the square. Then a sharp whistle. Almost like a whip...

"What's that?" I say. She lifts up her head, and hears the sound too.

"Come on," I say,

When we reach the square, it's clear something's happening, but the crowd's too thick to see. I stand up on a crate, and my blood runs cold at what I see. Gale tied to a post, his back looking like a raw hunk of meat covered in blood. A Peacekeeper stands poised with a whip in his hand, ready to strike again.

Katniss is half way up the crate to join me, but I push her down,

"Get down. Get out of here!" I say in a harsh, urgent, whisper.

"What?" She says, trying to force her way back up.

"Go home, Katniss! I'll be there in a minute, I swear!" I say, but it's no use. She yanks her hand away from me and pushes her way through the crowd.

I follow her through the crowd, and she reaches Gale, just as the Peacekeeper raises the whip, ready to hit again.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"No" she cries, and springs forward, throwing out her arms to protect Gales lacerated body. With nothing to shield herself with, she takes the full force of the whip across her face, and she falls to her knees. An angry red welt as already appeared on her face.

"Stop it! You'll kill him!" She shrieks.

I look at the Peacekeeper. Hard, with deep lines, a cruel mouth. Gray hair shaved almost to nonexistence, eyes so black they seem all pupils, a long, straight nose reddened by the freezing air. The powerful arm lifts again, his sights set on her. Katniss's hand flies to her shoulder, hungry for an arrow, but, of course, her weapons are stashed in the woods.

I stand there too horrified to do anything. Someone shoves me out of the way, and a harsh voice sounds.

"Hold it!" Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. I think he's called Darius. A huge purple lump pushes through the red hair on his forehead. He's knocked out but still breathing.

Haymitch pulls Katniss roughly to her feet, "Oh, excellent." His hand locks under her chin, lifting it. "She's got a photo shoot next week modeling wedding dresses. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?"

The man rests the whip on his hip. "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal."

"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her cheek! Think that will be camera ready in a week?" Haymitch snarls.

The man's voice is still cold, but I can detect a slight edge of doubt. "That's not my problem."

"No? Well, it's about to be, my friend. The first call I make when I get home is to the Capitol," says Haymitch."Find out who authorized you to mess up my victor's pretty little face!"

"He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?" says the man.

I hurry forward, finding my voice at last. I gently take her other arm, "He's her cousin. And she's my fiancé. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us." I say defiantly.

Another Peacekeeper steps forward, "I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad." She says

"Is that the standard protocol here?" asks the Head Peacekeeper.

"Yes, sir," She says.

"Very well. Get your cousin out of here, then, girl. And if he comes to, remind him that the next time he poaches off the Capitol's land, I'll assemble that firing squad personally." The Head Peacekeeper wipes his hand along the length of the whip, splattering us with blood. Then he coils it into quick, neat loops and walks off.

Most of the other Peacekeepers fall in an awkward formation behind him.

"Gale." Katniss whispers, and her hands fumble at the knots binding him. Someone passes forward a knife, and I cut him free, where he collapses on the ground.

Better get him to your mother," says Haymitch.

There's no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. "Just don't tell where you got it," she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. The rest of the square has emptied.

By the time we've laid Gale facedown on the board, there's only a handful of people left to carry him. Haymitch, Me, and a couple of miners who work on the same crew as Gale lift him up.

Katniss asks one of her friends from the seam to go and get Gales mother. Then she hurried to catch up with us.

"Get some snow on that," Haymitch orders over his shoulder, and I glance over to see her scoop up a hand full of snow and press it to the wound.

As we walk I hear Bristel and Thorn, Gale's crewmates, piece together the story of what happened. Gale must've gone to head Peacekeeper Cray's house. Knowing Cray always pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. Thread put Gale under immediate arrest and, of course, since he was standing there holding a dead turkey, there was little Gale could say in his own defense. Word of his predicament spread quickly. He was brought to the square, forced to plead guilty to his crime, and sentenced to a whipping to be carried out immediately. By the time we showed up, he'd been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty.

"Lucky he only had the turkey on him," says Bristel. "If he'd had his usual haul, would've been much worse."

"He told Thread he found it wandering around the Seam. Said it got over the fence and he'd stabbed it with a stick. Still a crime. But if they'd known he'd been in the woods with weapons, they'd have killed him for sure," says Thom.

"What about Darius?" I ask.

After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn't do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread's arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him," says Bristel.

"Doesn't sound like much good for any of us," says Haymitch.

The snow starts falling again, thick and wet. I can't help but stare with a kind of perverse curiosity at the wound on Gale's back. It's wet and sticky with blood, that's still pouring out.

Somehow we all stumble back to Katniss's house, the door opens, and her mother surveys the scene on the doorstep.

"New Head," Haymitch says, and she gives him a curt nod as if no other explanation is needed.

In moments, the long kitchen table has been cleared, a sterile white cloth spread across it, and Gale hoisted onto it. Her mother pours water from a kettle into a basin while ordering Prim to pull a series of her remedies from the medicine cabinet. Dried herbs and tinctures and store-bought bottles.

Her mother glances at Katniss. "Did it cut your eye?"

"No, it's just swelled shut," She says.

"Get more snow on it," she instructs.

"Can you save him?" She asks her mother. She says nothing as she wrings out the cloth and holds it in the air to cool somewhat. Katniss is looking desperate, and her wound looks so painful. I can see that it's cut right in to her cheek.

"Don't worry," says Haymitch. "Used to be a lot of whipping before Cray. She's the one we took them to."

Ever so gently, she begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale's back. Katniss stands there transfixed with horror. I push her in to a chair, and press a cloth filled with fresh snow to her cheek.

Haymitch tells Bristel and Thorn to get home, and I see him press coins into their hands before they leave. "Don't know what will happen with your crew," he says. They nod and accept the money.

Gales mother Hazelle arrives, breathless and flushed, fresh snow in her hair. Wordlessly, she sits on a stool next to the table, takes Gale's hand, and holds it against her lips.

It takes a long time to clean the wounds, arrange what shredded skin can be saved, apply a salve and a light bandage. I can't imagine the pain he must be in. I think back to the cut Cato gave me in the arena with his sword. The sharp stinging, and shear agony of it. I pray that Gale remains unconscious, because right now I don't care that it's him Katniss loved instead of me. I just know that I would inflict that kind of pain on anybody.

Of course, that's too much to ask for. As the final bandages are being placed, a moan escapes his lips. Hazelle strokes his hair and whispers something while Katniss's mother and Prim go through their meager store of painkillers.

Since Gale is regaining consciousness, they decide on an herbal concoction he can take by mouth. "That won't be enough," says Katniss. We all turn to stare at her.

"That won't be enough, I know how it feels. That will barely knock out a headache." Her voice is getting louder now.

"We'll combine it with sleep syrup, Katniss, and he'll manage it. The herbs are more for the inflammation—" her mother begins calmly.

"Just give him the medicine!" She screams at her. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!"

Gale begins stirring at her voice, trying to reach her. The movement causes fresh blood to stain his bandages and an agonized sound to come from his mouth. I feel sick, I don't think I can stand to look at the scene for much longer. What it must be doing to Katniss, I can't bare to think.

"Take her out," says her mother. Me and Haymitch literally carry her from the room while she shouts obscenities at her mother. We pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until she stop fighting.

I don't think I've ever seen her like this. Well yes I have. When she's having a nightmare, thrashing and screaming to return to consciousness.

I look at her sadly as she lies there sobbing. I whisper to Haymitch about President Snow, and the uprising in District 8.

"She wants us all to run," I say. Haymitch doesn't answer.

After a while, her mother comes in and treats her face. Then she holds her hand, stroking her arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale.

"So it's starting again?" she says. "Like before?"

"By the looks of it," he answers. "Who'd have thought we'd ever be sorry to see old Cray go?"

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. I shudder at the thought of it. Is it the fate that would have fallen to Katniss if her father hadn't taught her to hunt?

I don't know what she means exactly by "it starting again" but I'm guessing it means that darker times lie ahead for District 12.

The doorbell rings, and Katniss shoots out of bed. At such late hour, it can only be Peacekeepers.

"They can't have him," She says.

"Might be you they're after," Haymitch reminds me. "Or you," She says.

"Not my house," Haymitch points out. "But I'll get the door."

"No, I'll get it," says Katniss's mother quietly.

We all go, though, following her down the hallway to the insistent ring of the bell. When she opens it, there's not a squad of Peacekeepers but a single, snow-caked figure. It's the mayors daughter, Madge. She hands out a single damp cardboard box to Katniss.

"Use these for your friend," she says. Katniss takes off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. "They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them, please." She runs back into the storm before we can stop her.

"Crazy girl," Haymitch mutters as we follow, Katniss's mother into the kitchen.

Whatever her mother had given Gale, Katniss was right, it isn't enough. His teeth are gritted and his flesh shines with sweat. Her mother fills a syringe with the clear liquid from one of the vials and shoots it into his arm. Almost immediately, his face begins to relax. I find it strange that Madge came out like this to help Gale. I didn't even know that they knew each other.

"What is that stuff?" I ask.

"It's from the Capitol. It's called morphling," her mother answers.

"I didn't even know Madge knew Gale," I say, registering my thoughts out loud.

"We used to sell her strawberries," Katniss says almost angrily.

"She must have quite a taste for them," says Haymitch.

"She's my friend" is all she says.

Now that Gale has drifted away on the painkiller, everyone seems to deflate. Prim makes us each eat some stew and bread. Even though both me and Haymitch are willing to stay, we're sent home to bed.

I get up to my bedroom, and slump on my bed still reeling from the nights events. My minds buzzing, and I know I won't be able to sleep tonight. I just can't face the nightmares that will come when I sleep.

After a few hours of just lying there, thinking things through I get up. I go down to the kitchen, and do what I always do when I want to take my mind of things. I bake bread. I don't know what it is, but somehow I always feel instantaneously calmer, burying my hands in the soft dough.

I let the loaves cool on the table, and go up to wash my face, which is puffy from lack of sleep. Morning is breaking, white clouds visible through my window. I want to know if anything's changed with Gale, so I pick up the loaves and head over to Katniss's house.

I slowly ease the door open, not wanting to make any noise. I walk to the kitchen and stand in the door. Gale lies in the same place on the table. Katniss is next to him, her head leaning on the table, obviously asleep. I look at the scene, and see that their hands are locked tightly together. As if nothing in the world could persuade them to let go.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

I don't know how long it is that I stand there. It could be just minutes, or they could have stretched out in to hours. Katniss has a look on her face, one that I've seen before. The one she gave me in the cave back during the Games. Of course I have no idea whether that was genuine. But I know that it is now, and her face isn't directed towards me, it's directed towards Gale. I eventually come back to myself, set the loaves down on the counter, and move towards them. I shake Katniss's shoulder, she stirs, sits up, and looks around to see me.

"Go on up to bed, Katniss. I'll look after him now," I say.

"Peeta. About what I said yesterday, about running—" She begins.

"I know," I say. "There's nothing to explain."

She surveys my face for a few moments, a pained expression on her face.

"Peeta—"

"Just go to bed, okay?" I say. She stumbled out of the room, and I hear the floor boards above me creak, indicating that she's in her room.

Gale doesn't take much looking after. I sit on the stool that Katniss occupied, and he stays fast asleep. I look at his face, noticing just how different me and him look. I start thinking about how different my life would have been if he and Katniss had never met. If I'd been there for her from the start.

The snow outside the window gets heavier and heavier, turning in to a full on blizzard. Katniss's mother and Prim come down to tend to Gale, and after hearing the creaking of the floor boards upstairs, I can hear that Katniss will be down soon.

"I'm going to get out of your way Mrs Everdeen," I say to Katniss's mother, "I don't want to leave my house unattended during a storm."

She smiles at me, and her and Prim both say goodbye.

"Please let me know if anything else happens," I say to Prim at the door, and she promises she will.

I can barely see anything because of the thickness of the snow, so I run at full pelt to a house, and hope that it's mine. It is, and I go in to the living room to build up a warm fire. I look out of the window, and realize that I haven't seen Haymitch since last night. After taking some bread from the kitchen, I run across the square to Haymitch's house.

Shaking the snow out of my hair, I head to the kitchen, only to find him passed out drunk, knife in hand. I leave the bread on his table, build up his own fire, and leave him to it.

The wind bites in to my face as I run across the green, back to my own house. When I get through the door, I shower the door mat in snow as I shake it off my coat, and out of my hair.

I go back through to the living room, which by now is deliciously warm, radiating the heat from the fire. I look out of the window, at the thick snow flurry. You'd never guess that people lived just a few houses away from me. Snow storms have a funny way of making you feel completely isolated. Of course right now, the snow is only partly to blame for that feeling.

In the early afternoon the phone rings. There's only a limited number of people it could be, and seeing as Haymitch is passed out drunk, and Katniss is probably tending to Gale, I answer it with trepidation. But it's Katniss at the other end.

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home," She says.

"Katniss, I live three houses away from you," I say.

"I know, but with the weather and all," She says.

"Well, I'm fine. Thank you for checking." There's a long pause while I think of what to day next. "How's Gale?" I say

"All right. My mother and Prim are giving him snow coat now," She says.

"And your face?" I ask.

"I've got some, too," She says. "Have you seen Haymitch today?"

"I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread," I tell her

"I wanted to talk to — to both of you." She cuts herself off, the phones probably tapped, she needs to be careful.

"Probably have to wait until after the weather calms down," I say. "Nothing much will happen before that, anyway."

"No, nothing much," She agrees.

It takes two days for the storm to blow itself out, leaving us with drifts higher than my head. Another day before the path is cleared from the Victor's Village to the square. It's been a lonely few days, and so the nightmares have got worse. I'm relieved when Katniss calls me almost immediately after the path is cleared, to see if I want to go in to town with her.

We rouse Haymitch and drag him along with us. He complains, but not as much as usual. We all know we need to discuss what happened and it can't be anywhere as dangerous as our homes in the Victor's Village. In fact, we wait until the village is well behind us to even speak.

Finally Haymitch breaks the silence. "So we're all heading off into the great unknown, are we?" he asks Katniss.

"No," She says. "Not anymore."

"Worked through the flaws in that plan, did you, sweetheart?" he asks. "Any new ideas?"

"I want to start an uprising," She says.

Haymitch just laughs, clearly not taking her seriously. I on the other hand am taking her very seriously. "Well, I want a drink. You let me know how that works out for you, though," he says.

"Then what's your plan?" She spits back at him.

"My plan is to make sure everything is just perfect for your wedding," says Haymitch. "I called and rescheduled the photo shoot without giving too many details."

"You don't even have a phone," She says. He ripped it out of the wall years ago.

"Effie had that fixed," he says. "Do you know she asked me if I'd like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better."

"Haymitch." I can hear the pleading creeping into her voice.

"Katniss." He mimics her tone. "It won't work."

They shut up as a team of men with shovels passes us, headed out to the Victor's Village. And by the time they're out of earshot, the square is too close. We step into it and all come to a stop simultaneously.

_Nothing much will happen during the blizzard_ . That's what Katniss and I had agreed. But we couldn't have been more wrong. The square has been transformed. A huge banner with the seal of Panem hangs off the roof of the Justice Building. Peacekeepers, in pristine white uniforms, march on the cleanly swept cobblestones. Along the rooftops, more of them occupy nests of machine guns. Most unnerving is a line of new constructions —an official whipping post, several stockades, and a gallows — set up in the centre of the square.

"Thread's a quick worker," says Haymitch.

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke.

"Haymitch, you don't think everyone was still in-—" Katniss begins, but she can't finish the sentence.

"Nah, they're smarter than that. You'd be, too, if you'd been around longer," he says. "Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare."

He trudges off across the square and Katniss and I look at one another.

"What's he want that for?" Then She realizes the answer. "We can't let him drink it. He'll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I've got some white liquor put away at home."

I'd bought some just in case something happened, I'd seen Haymitch when he was in withdrawal, and it was something I never wanted to see again."Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business," I say.

I glance over to the bakery, and realize that I never turned up for dinner last night. Surely they would have seen what went on in the square, but still. "I need to check on my family." I say.

"I have to go see Hazelle." Katniss

"I'll go, too. Drop by the bakery on my way home," I say, because I'm reluctant to let her out of my sight, if I'm honest.

"Thanks." She says.

As we walk to Hazelle's house, I notice that the streets are deserted. I see faces peeking at us out of doorways, through cracks in shutters.

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy, Gales little sister. "I couldn't leave her," she says. "I knew Gale'd be in the best possible hands."

"Of course," Katniss says. "He's much better. My mother says he'll be back in the mines in a couple of weeks."

"May not be open until then, anyway," says Hazelle. "Word is they're closed until further notice." She gives a nervous glance at her empty washtub.

"You closed down, too?" I ask.

"Not officially," says Hazelle. "But everyone's afraid to use me now."

"Maybe it's the snow," I say.

"No, Rory made a quick round this morning. Nothing to wash, apparently," she says.

Rory wraps his arms around Hazelle. "We'll be all right."

Katniss takes a handful of money from my pocket and lays it on the table. I didn't bring any money out with me, hut I wish I did. Hazelle looks so forlorn.

"My mother will send something for Posy." Says Katniss.

When we're outside, She turns to me. "You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob."

"I'll go with you," I says.

"No. I've dragged you into enough trouble," She tells me.

"And avoiding a stroll by the Hob ... that's going to fix things for me?" I smile and take her hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building. They haven't even bothered to leave Peacekeepers around it. They know no one would try to save it.

The heat from the flames melts the surrounding snow and a black trickle runs across my shoes. "It's all that coal dust, from the old days," She says. "I want to check on Greasy Sae." I think back to what Hazelle was saying before,

"Not today, Katniss. I don't think we'd be helping anyone by dropping in on them," I say.

We go back to the square, and in to the bakery. I say hello to the rest of my family, and Katniss buys some cakes.

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don't receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. When the mines reopen, wages are cut, hours extended, miners sent into blatantly dangerous work sites. The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. The installations in the square see plenty of action as people are dragged in and punished for offenses so long overlooked we've forgotten they are illegal.

Gale goes home, me and Katniss have no more talk of rebellion, although I'm sure it's still on her mind. To be honest it's on my mind as well. I just that we can't carry on like this.

Although Haymitch's standard of living has improved. Katniss persuaded him to hire Hazelle as a housekeeper, so that's resulted in some extra money for her too. It's weird going into his house, finding it fresh and clean, food warming on the stove. He hardly notices because he's fighting a whole different battle. Katniss and I tried to ration what white liquor we had, but it's almost run out, and the last time I saw Ripper, she was in the stocks.

Nothing happens until one evening, when there's a knock at my door. I open it to find Katniss's mother standing there.

"Peeta," She says, slightly flustered "Have you seen Katniss?"

"I'm sorry but I haven't," I tell her, "Is everything okay Mrs Everdeen?"

"Well it's just there's two Peacekeepers waiting in the house, wanting to give Katniss a message." She says.

Now I think about it I haven't seen Katniss all day.

"I'll get Haymitch and come straight over," I tell her, "maybe we can help."

She murmurs thanks, and then dashes back to her house.

I round Haymitch up, and we go in to Katniss's kitchen, to find two steely faced Peacekeepers waiting in there for us.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

I survey the scene warily; there are two of them, a man and a woman. Neither of them say a word, so Haymitch and I place ourselves in the two rocking chairs by the hearth.

The hours pass, as still the Peacekeepers stand there, waiting for Katniss. Mrs Everdeen looks anxious. Prim is standing stiffly by the hearth. I'm starting to get worried now, clearly something is wrong. Why else would two Peacekeepers wait for hours in her kitchen? Haymitch and I try to remain neutral, playing a game of chess, while I shoot furtive looks at the Peacekeepers from under my lashes.

As time passes, wild thoughts go running through my mind. Has she changed her mind? Made a run for it with Gale? She would have told me surely? Then again I'm not really sure of anything anymore.

Then we hear the front door open, and the two Peacekeepers and Katniss's mother rush to the door of the kitchen.

"Hello," I hear her say in a neutral voice.

I look over at Haymitch, and he stares warningly back. A rush of relief floods through me. It was almost as if the Peacekeepers weren't waiting for Katniss. No, it seems like they were waiting for her not to come back.

"Here she is, just in time for dinner," Katniss's mother says a little too brightly.

"Can I help you with something?" She asks the Peacekeepers.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," says the woman.

"They've been waiting for hours," her mother adds.

"Must be an important message," She says.

"May we ask where you've been, Miss Everdeen?" the woman asks.

"Easier to ask where I _haven't_ been," She says with a sound of exasperation.

She moves in to the kitchen, and flings her bag down on the table. It's only because I've been around her so much, that I notice something strange about the way she's walking. Like she's hurt herself. She turns, and see's me and Haymitch sitting there. She looks surprised but glad to see us all the same.

"So where haven't you been?" says Haymitch in a bored voice.

"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," She says to Prim emphatically. We're going to have to play it very carefully if we're going to cover this up.

"No, I didn't," says Prim. "I told you exactly."

"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine," She says.

"The east entrance," Prim corrects her.

"You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?' and you said, 'Yeah,'" She says.

"The slag heap next to the east entrance," says Prim patiently.

"No. When did you say that?" She demand. "Last night," Haymitch chimes in.

"It was definitely the east," I add.

I look at Haymitch and we laugh convincingly. She glares at me, giving me a smouldering look.

"I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you." I say, trying to look contrite.

"Bet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," says Haymitch.

"Shut up, Haymitch," She says, clearly indicating he's right.

Me and Haymitch crack up, and I allow myself a subtle glance at the Peacekeepers, the mans laughing, but the woman looks unconvinced.

"Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up," she retorts, and we laugh further.

"What's in the bag?" The female Peacekeeper asks sharply. I'm starting to piece it together, clearly they think she's been in the woods. I start to feel slightly panicked as I look at the bag. I remember what happened to Gale for illegal poaching. I don't think I can bear to see Katniss in a state like that. Lacerated skin, and blood everywhere.

"See for youself," she says, dumping the contents on the table. I breathe an internal sigh of relief, as bandages and a bag of sweets land on the table.

"Oh, good," says her mother, examining the cloth. "We're running low on bandages."

I cross to the table, and open the bag of sweets, "Ooh, peppermints," I say, popping one in my mouth.

"They're mine." She takes a swipe for the bag. I toss it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth, before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. "None of you deserves sweets!" She says.

"What, because we're right?" I say, and I wrap my arm around her waist. She gives a small yelp of pain, which she tries to turn in to a sound of indignation. I look in to her grey eyes, and I know that she's hurt. Which begs the question, how did she get hurt?

"Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we're all idiots. How's that?" I say

"Better," She says, and accepts my kiss. Then she looks at the Peacekeepers as if I'm suddenly remembering they're there. "You have a message for me?"

"From Head Peacekeeper Thread," says the woman. "He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day."

"Didn't it already?" She asks, a little too innocently, and I have to suppress a laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin," says the woman.

"Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse." She's pushing it now, but I can tell that she's enjoying their reaction.

The woman's jaw tightens, but with no further orders she gives a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. As soon as they're out of the door, Mrs Everdeen bolts it shut, and Katniss slumps against the table.

"What is it?" I say, holding me steadily.

"Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone's had a bad day, too." I help her over to one of the rocking chairs, and she lowers herself on to one of the padded seats.

Her mother eases off my boots. "What happened?"

"I slipped and fell," She says. We all look at her in disbelief, clearly this is not what happened. "On some ice." But we all know the house must be bugged and it's not safe to talk openly.

Having stripped off her sock, her mother's fingers probe the bones in her left heel and she winces. "There might be a break," she says. She checks the other foot. "This one seems all right." She judges her tailbone to be badly bruised.

The rest of us eat at the table, while Katniss changes in to her pyjama's and eats in the rocking chair. I stay sitting at the table with Haymitch, whilst Prim leans against Katniss's knee.

"How was school?" Katniss asks.

"All right. We learned about coal by-products," Prim says. "Are you going to try on your wedding dresses?"

I get a little jolt in my stomach, as I think about the wedding, and the white dresses carefully tucked away.

"Not tonight. Tomorrow probably," She says.

"Wait until I get home, okay?" Prim says.

"Sure."

They look so peaceful, I never had that kind of relationship with either of my brothers. I see exactly why Katniss volunteered for her at the reaping.

Mrs Everdeen gives her a cup of camomile tea, with a dose of sleep syrup. She wraps up Katniss's bad foot, and I volunteer to get her to bed.

It starts off with her leaning on my shoulder, but she's so wobbly that in the end I scoop her up in my arms and carry her. She barely weighs anything, I feel her warmth radiate in to my own skin.

I tuck her in and say goodnight, but she catches my hand and holds me there.

"Don't go yet. Not until I fall asleep," She says.

I sit on the edge of the bed, warming her hands with both of mine.

"Almost thought you'd changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner." I say softly.

"No, I'd have told you," She whispers back, and pulls one of my hands up and leans her cheek against it.

She's rapidly loosing consciousness, the sleep syrup pulling her down in to oblivion. I briefly remember her spiking me with the same stuff all those months ago during the Games. My horror at realizing what she had done, of what might happen, yet my complete inability to do anything.

"Stay with me." She says.

"Always," I whisper back.

As the days pass, I go about my normal activity. Baking bread, and cheese buns which it turns out Katniss has a fondness for. Making sure Haymitch is okay, and walking in to town every now and again to see my family. It's when I'm down in the square having spent the morning with Katniss, that notice Peacekeepers securing the chain link to the ground, meaning that the power must be off, at least in some sections of the fence.

I tell Katniss this when I next see her and she seems to relax a bit. Meanwhile the two of us work on her family book. Apparently some herbalist on her mothers side started it ages ago. The book's composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. Her father even added a section on edible plants. She's wanted to record her own knowledge in it for ages, so she carefully writes in the descriptions, but as she said herself she's no artist, so that's where I come in. Some of the plants I already know, others she has dried samples of, and others she has to describe.

I make sketches on scrap paper, until she's satisfied, then I carefully print them in to the book. It's absorbing work, and seeing as we both need our mind taking off things, it's the perfect activity. Also it's one of the first normal thing we've done together, in between saving each others lives, and staging love for the audiences in the Capitol. Well she staged the love; she knows that for me it was only too real.

I voice this one afternoon, I stop shading a blossom, and look up at her suddenly, to find her examining my features carefully.

"You know, I think this is the first time we've ever done anything normal together." I say.

"Yeah," She agrees. "Nice for a change."

Each afternoon I carry her downstairs for a change of scenery and she unnerves everyone by turning on the television. We usually only watch it when it's mandatory.

I watch her face, as she avidly watches a report of the dark days, and District 13. We watch the smouldering wreckage of the justice building. It's gets me thinking of what the world would be like if District 13 still existed, if The Hunger Games was never even thought of. Where would that have left me?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The next few months for me are relatively good. Katniss and I actually develop a normal kind of relationship, I mean I can tell that she still doesn't feel the same way about me, but we're definitely firm friends. We sit around, and eat the cheese buns I make her, while she watches me sketch.

Slowly we develop a routine, Katniss's foot still isn't usable, so we sit up in her bedroom, trying to forget the horrors of our past. Mostly I sketch her, but she's not easy to draw, her facial expression changes so often.

But winter withdraws, and her foot starts to get better. I help her walk down stairs, some days, and others I just watch her walk on her own.

Only one day when I'm heading out of my front door with the intention of spending the day with Katniss again, something catches my eye. There's a car waiting outside her house, a car that can only have come from the Capitol. Alarmed I quickly knock on the door. Katniss's mother answers.

"Sorry Peeta, but you can't come in today, Katniss is having her bridal shoot," She explains happily.

Relieved, I walk back to my house, all the while thinking of the wedding. Will things change once Katniss and I are legally husband and wife? Will she discover some unknown feelings towards me? And children of course, the Capitol will expect children. I know that Katniss doesn't want them, and after what I've been through I'm reluctant too. But will that choice even be up to us? After all the trouble we've caused, it's a sad thought to think that we've kind of guaranteed any child of ours a place in the Games. Unless something changes first.

Just as I'm at my front door, I look up to the sky. A rainbow! Delighted I run inside to my easel, by the window. But it's no good, by the time I've mixed together a light azure blue, it's gone.

Sighing and thinking that seeing as I'm here I might as well paint something, I dig out my sketchbook, and start painting a portrait of Katniss.

I go to bed that night feeling almost content, but the feeling doesn't last long, because the nightmares come to me in full force.

I'm lying under the tracker jacker tree, only once the nest drops I don't get out of there in time. Huge lumps start to erupt on my skin, that burst covering me in a green sludge. The Katniss is hanging over me, only it's not my Katniss. There's a maddening glint in her beautiful eyes, and without warning her face starts to elongate. Dark fur grows over her in tufts, vicious fangs erupt from nowhere, and she looms above me. The only thing that hasn't changed is her eyes.

I awake in a cold sweat, muscles tensed. My breathing is shallow, and as usual I slowly remind myself that it wasn't real.

Dawn is breaking outside, and I know that it'll be pointless trying to get back to sleep.

By the time the suns up, I decide to walk in to town and help out in the bakery. I haven't seen my family for a while, as I've been spending all of my spare time with Katniss. As I walk down the path to town there's a definite air of spring in the air, and I hum to myself.

As I enter the square everyone else is just leaving for school, I give Delly a friendly wave, and she waves back. As I enter the bakery, I see my oldest brother Sol at the counter. He gives a roar of delight as he see's me, and rushes around the counter to greet me.

"Haven't seen you in ages Peeta," He says, ruffling my hair.

"Yeah I'm sorry, I've been busy," I say guiltily. Because it's true, I haven't seen nearly enough of my family lately.

"Oh it doesn't matter, I expect you've been busy with the wedding eh?" I he says good naturedly. "I can't believe it my baby brother married before me." He smiles at me fondly.

I laugh slightly uncomfortably, "Where's everyone else?" I ask.

"Oh they're all in the back finishing breakfast," He says, and I go through in to the house. My mother, father and second oldest brother Robus are sitting around our rickety old wooden table. They all smile as they see me, and I sit down to join them for breakfast.

"Hows Katniss?" my father asks, and I notice my mother purses her lips in disapproval. I ignore her.

"Oh she's on the mend, she slipped on some ice in the winter, and hurt her foot, but she's pretty much recovered now." I say. I take a slice of bread and eat it, before discovering that it's very stale. I offered my family some of my winnings so they didn't have to live their lives on stale leftovers from the bakery, but my father refused to take it.

I spend the rest of the day, down at the bakery. It's hard work, but it keeps me busy which is what I need. Also it's nice to spend some time with my brothers, who mercilessly tease me about Katniss, but it's all in good fun, so I laugh back at them.

In the late afternoon I bid them goodbye, promising to come to dinner sometime in the week. I'm just shutting the door, when I hear someone call my name.

"Hey Peeta!" I look around and see Delly calling me across the square. I walk over to her smiling.

"Guess what Peeta? The teachers at school said there was mandatory programming tonight, I think that it's Katniss's wedding shoot, I heard they did it yesterday!" Delly looks breathless and exited.

I fix a smile on my face too, "oh that's brilliant Delly, she's going to look so beautiful," I say.

Delly actually squeals with excitement, "You're both going to be so happy!" She says beaming widely. "Anyway I've got to go," and she turns and runs back across the square.

'One of us is going to be happy,' I think sadly as I wander back towards the Victors Village.

I get something to eat, and at seven thirty I go in to the living room and switch the television on.

Delly is right. Sure enough, there's Caesar Flickerman, speaking before a standing-room-only crowd in front of the Training Centre, talking to an appreciative crowd about our upcoming nuptials. He introduces Cinna, who became an overnight star with his costumes for Katniss in the Games, and after a minute of good-natured chitchat, we're directed to turn our attention to a giant screen.

Initially, Cinna designed two dozen wedding gowns. Since then, there's been the process of narrowing down the designs, creating the dresses, and choosing the accessories. Apparently, in the Capitol, there were opportunities to vote for your favourites at each stage. Then I'm bombarded with pictures of Katniss in the final six dresses. Creamy lace and pink roses, Ivory satin and gold tattoos, a sheath of diamonds and jewelled veil, heavy white silk and sleeves that fall from her wrists to the floor, and pearls. I kind of zone out around the fourth dress. It's not that she doesn't look beautiful because she does, it's just that this is the Capitols vision of her, not mine.

"Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" Caesar hollers to the crowd. I'm about to shut off the television, but then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"

I freeze, the quell isn't for months yet, so I'm wondering what they're going to do for it this early? It's going to be my first year as a mentor, and I'm dreading every second of it.

The anthem plays, and my throat tightens as President Snow takes the stage. He's followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a simple wooden box. The anthem ends, and President Snow begins to speak, to remind us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion.

President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

I wonder how that would have felt. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your own neighbors than have your name drawn from the reaping ball.

"On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

I imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. That was the year Haymitch won... .

"And now we honour our third Quarter Quell," says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

I sit frozen for a few seconds, processing the information. Existing pool of victors? We were meant to be safe. But for us The Hunger Games are about to begin all over again. We're going back in to the arena.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I'm on my feet before I know it. There's only one female victor in District 12. Katniss. I know that I'm going back in too, because I need to protect her, keep her safe. It feels just like the last time, I made a vow to get Katniss home, and I'm going to do the exact same thing this time.

I stumble in to Haymitch's kitchen just as he's breaking the seal on a bottle of white liquor. Well at least I'll be able to speak to him when he's still relatively sober. He looks at me, and I look back at him.

"You chose her last time Haymitch, now you owe me." He doesn't say anything but he doesn't break his gaze.

"Please Haymitch, let me go back in, let me protect her." My voice is getting louder now out of desperation. But still he doesn't say anything.

"Say something then!" I'm shouting now, "Keep her alive!" Haymitch just tips back his head, and downs the bottle of white liquor.

"I am going back in to that arena Haymitch!" But he reaches down and pulls out another bottle of liquor.

Disgusted, I leave him too it. I run over to Katniss's house, and her mother answers, tears streaming down her face.

"She's not here Peeta," she sobs, "She ran out after the announcement."

I run across the green screaming her name, but I get no response. If she wanted to be found, she would have come to me.

Instead I go home, and up a seat by the window, knowing that this'll be the best place to see her when she does turn up. I'm going to die, there's no way around it. But I know that my death will mean Katniss's life, and that thought gives me comfort. I look at the floor, I must have starred at it for hours, just thinking about the future that I'll never have. I hear a slam of a door, and my head jolts up. Katniss is stumbling across the green; unmistakably a bottle of white liquor is clutched in her hand.

I suppose that I must have fallen asleep, I have no idea how though. My face is slumped against the window, daylight pouring in. But I have a plan, Haymitch and Katniss are both going to come home, we need to be prepared. We need to start acting like careers.

I don't waste the morning, I get straight to work. I call Effie, who sounds like she's been crying, and she promises to send me recordings of all the living victors, we need to know what we're up against. I'm starting to feel glad that I only won last year, many of the victors are friends with each other, and I don't think I could bear facing that.

The next thing I do is track down Ripper, the woman who sells Haymitch his white liquor. I tell her how I'll turn her in the second she sells to either Haymitch or Katniss, and I pay her off for good measure. We can't afford any drunkards on our team, not if we're going to win.

Next I go to the bakery, and face my family. The shop is empty, so I go through in to our old living room, where I find my family sitting in silence. Clearly they've been waiting for me to turn up.

They look over at me, and to my surprise my mother bursts in to tears, and wraps her arms around my neck. I pat her on the back softly.

"You were mean to be safe!" she gasps through her tears. She releases me, and my father puts his arms around my shoulder, tears dripping down his face too. It's clear that they know I'm not going to make it out again this time. I only made it out last time because of luck, and Katniss.

"I don't want anymore tears," I say firmly. I look over at Robus and Sol, and see that although they're not crying they look as if they've been hit over the head with a mallet.

"Stop it," I say to my mother, and slowly her tears fade away.

"You might not go in," Robus says hopefully, "There's still Haymitch."

"I'm not leaving Katniss," I say simply.

I spend a few hours with them, we talk about all the happy times during my childhood, and by the time I leave them, I'm feeling slightly better.

Instead of going back to my house, I march straight in to Haymitch's. He's still passed out drunk on the kitchen table, and I don't wake him. I go round his house, and collect every single bottle of white liquor, and pour them all down the sink. I put all of the bottles in a cardboard box, and come down stairs. Katniss is sitting at the table, and Haymitch has finally woken up.

"There, it's done" I say.

Haymitch is still looking bleary eyed, and it's taking all of his efforts to focus his eyes on the box. "What's done?" Katniss asks.

"I've poured all the liquor down the drain," I say.

This seems to jolt Haymitch out of his stupor, and he paws through the box in disbelief. "You what?"

"I tossed the lot," I say.

"He'll just buy more," She says.

"No, he won't," I say.

"I tracked down Ripper this morning and told her I'd turn her in the second she sold to either of you. I paid her off, too, just for good measure, but I don't think she's eager to be back in the Peacekeepers' custody." I explain.

Haymitch takes a swipe with his knife but I deflect it so easily it's pathetic.

"What business is it of yours what he does?" Says Katniss angrily.

"It's completely my business. However it falls out, two of us are going to be in the arena again with the other as mentor. We can't afford any drunkards on this team. Especially not you, Katniss," I say to Katniss.

"What?" She sputters indignantly. It would be more convincing if she weren't still so hungover. "Last night's the only time I've ever even been drunk."

"Yeah, and look at the shape you're in," I say.

"Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor." She says turning to Haymitch.

"Then I'll turn you both in. Let you sober up in the stocks," I say simply.

"What's the point to this?" asks Haymitch.

"The point is that two of us are coming home from the Capitol. One mentor and one victor," I say. "Effie's sending me recordings of all the living victors. We're going to watch their Games and learn everything we can about how they fight. We're going to put on weight and get strong. We're going to start acting like Careers. And one of us is going to be victor again whether you two like it or not!" I slam out of the door.

I'm seething; they are not going to mess up my efforts to actually keep them alive! It's too late for me, I made the pledge to keep Katniss alive the moment the card was read out. Well actually the moment my name was reaped all those months ago. Yes my life was over, but I was going to do my best to keep the lives of the two people I left in that kitchen.

But after a few days, they agree to act like Careers, and every night we watch the old recaps of the Games that the remaining victors won. Adjusting for age, I realize some of our opponents may be elderly, which is both sad and reassuring. I take copious notes, Haymitch volunteers information about the victors' personalities, and slowly we begin to know our competition.

Every morning we do exercises to strengthen our bodies. We run and lift things and stretch our muscles. Every afternoon we work on combat skills, throwing knives, fighting hand to hand; I even teach them to climb trees. Officially, tributes aren't supposed to train, but no one tries to stop us. Even in regular years, the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 show up able to wield spears and swords. This is nothing by comparison.

After all the years of abuse, Haymitch's body resists improvement. He's still remarkably strong, but the shortest run winds him. And you'd think a guy who sleeps every night with a knife might actually be able to hit the side of a house with one, but his hands shake so badly it takes weeks for him to achieve even that.

Katniss and I excel under the new regimen, though. It gives me something to do. It gives us all something to do besides accept defeat. Her mother puts us on a special diet to gain weight. Prim treats our sore muscles. Madge sneaks us her father's Capitol newspapers. Predictions on who will be victor of the victors show us among the favourites. Even Gale steps into the picture on Sundays, and teaches us all he knows about snares. We're perfectly civil to each other, putting our differences aside for Katniss. They'll be able to have a life together now, once I'm out of the picture.

In the spare time I have, I say my goodbyes. I visit my family, and I tell them how much I love them, and how they're not to grieve too long for me. They're strong I know they'll make it through. Delly's in a right state though. I visit her when she's working in her parents shoe shop, and she bursts in to tears at the sight of me. I thank her too, for a being an amazing friend, for always cheering me up. She tries to hold her tears back but it's no use. Just as I'm about to leave, she pulls me in to a rib cracking hug, sobbing in to my shoulder.

The day of the reaping's hot and sultry. The population of District 12 waits, sweating and silent, in the square with machine guns trained on them. Katniss stand alone in a small roped-off area. It's a sad sight to see. I guess the rest of the population of District 12 are relieved, their children have been spared for another year. Had mine and Katniss's situation been different, I would have felt the same way. But no Haymitch and I are standing in a similar pen right next to Katniss. The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls' reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. If the situation hadn't been so grave it would have been laughable.

The Effie moves the second reaping ball, with just two scraps of paper in it, as opposed to the thousands last year.

"Haymitch Abernathy," Effie calls.

Last year my name was called despite their being thousands, this year is wasn't despite the fact that there were only two slips. The outcome is the same nevertheless.

"I volunteer as tribute," I shout the minute Haymitch's name is called.

The I'm standing in the exact same position as I was exactly a year ago. Katniss and I standing on the stage together, and me knowing that I won't be coming back. We shake hands as is tradition.

We're marched in to the justice building. I have all of my goodbyes ready, I know exactly what I want to say. I've already seen my friends and family, but somehow I know that I have more to tell them. But I never get to say them.

Head Peacekeeper Thread is waiting for us in the justice building. "New procedure," he says with a smile. We're ushered out the back door, into a car, and taken to the train station. There are no cameras on the platform, no crowd to send us on our way. Haymitch and Effie appear, escorted by guards. Peacekeepers hurry us all onto the train and slam the door. The wheels begin to turn.

I'm left starring out of the window, watching District 12 disappear far behind me, knowing I'll never see it again. I say goodbye to all I knew here, goodbye to my life, the only constant thing being the girl on fire sitting in the seat next to me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, I just wanted to thank everyone who has read this story, and acknowledged it :) Please review and tell what you liked/didn't like, and how I can improve it :) thanks - Hermia**

Chapter Thirteen

Katniss stays long at the window, even after District 12 has been left far behind. She looks so forlorn, so hopeless. I feel desperate myself, as if the Capitol hasn't taken enough from us, they had to take our final goodbyes too, as well as our lives.

At least I had prepared my friends and family in the weeks before, but Katniss hadn't. She'd planned all she wanted to say in the hour allotted for goodbyes in the justice building. I had some other things that I wanted to say too, final farewells, to firmly close all those doors that might have been left open before the knife drops.

We'll write letters, Katniss," I say from behind her. "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Haymitch will deliver them for us if ... they need to be delivered." My voice is hoarse; almost like my throat is having to work extra hard just to get the words out.

It's no good. The words we wanted to say were meant to be delivered with embraces, hand holding, and tears. Now they're going to have to be delivered with a wooden box containing my body.

She just nods, and goes straight to her room. Her expression is so sad that it makes me want to start crying there and then. I go to my own room, and stand in the door way. Last year I couldn't wait to bury my toes in the carpet, and jump on to the huge bed. I can barely remember who that boy is anymore, just like District 12 I've left him far behind, and I'll never see him again.

I slowly remind myself of my mission, to keep Katniss alive. That was my plan from the beginning, one thing me and that boy from long ago have in common. So I say goodbye to everyone in District 12, and gradually I let them fade from my mind. My face is wet from tears I didn't even know that I was shedding. I wipe them away, and automatically head in to the bathroom, to hide any evidence of the fact that I've been crying.

By the time Effie knocks on my mind has become cold, calculated on the job in hand.

The meal's subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there are long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of pureed vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. Those little birds filled with orange sauce, with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate custard dotted with cherries. I might as well be eating cardboard for all the notice I'm taking.

Effie and I make occasional attempts at conversation that quickly die out.

"I love your new hair, Effie," I say, looking at Effie's golden wig, and taking a stab at attempted conversation.

"Thank you. I had it especially done to match Katniss's pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," says Effie.

"I think that's a great idea," I say, "How about it, Haymitch?"

"Yeah, whatever," says Haymitch. He's not drinking but I can tell he'd like to be. Effie had them take her own wine away when she saw the effort he was making, but he's in a miserable state.

"Maybe we could get you a wig, too," Katniss says in an attempt at lightness.

He just shoots her a look that says to leave him alone, and we all eat our custard in silence.

"Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" says Effie, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin.

Ever since the quell was announced, I've been making copious notes of the surviving victors, so we know our competition. Obviously the ones that I've got marked are the vicious career tributes from 1, 2, and 4. Most of them won their games through the most brutal methods. I rush off to get my notebook and then we gather in the compartment with the television to see who our competition will be in the arena. We are all in place as the anthem begins to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts begins.

In the history of the Games, there have been seventy-five victors. Fifty-nine are still alive. I recognize many of their faces, either from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games or from our recent viewing of the victors' tapes. Some are so old or wasted by illness, drugs, or drink that I can't place them. As one would expect, the pools of Career tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are the largest. But every district has managed to scrape up at least one female and one male victor.

The reapings go by quickly. I studiously puts stars by the names of the chosen tributes in my notebook.

Haymitch watches, his face devoid of emotion, as friends of his step up to take the stage. Effie makes hushed, distressed comments like "Oh, not Cecelia" or "Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight," and sighs frequently.

A beautiful brother and sister are reaped from District 1, Cashmere and Gloss. I think of their original games, and how awful it must have been for their parents, to have to watch both of their children reaped, and forced to fight in the arena. Brutus, a volunteer from District 2, who must be at least forty and apparently can't wait to get back in the arena. Finnick, the handsome bronze-haired guy from District 4 who was crowned ten years ago at the age of fourteen. A hysterical looking woman called Annie Cresta is also reaped from 4. I vaguely remember her watching her games on one of the tapes Effie sent me; I heard that she kind of lost it after her district partner go beheaded. After they flooded the arena she survived because she was the best swimmer. She's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage. I start to feel slightly sick, if it came down to it, I don't think I would have it in me to kill that old woman.

Then there's Johanna Mason, the only living female victor from 7, who won a few years back by pretending she was a weakling. The woman from 8 who Effie calls Cecelia, who looks about thirty, has to detach herself from the three kids who run up to cling to her. The sick feeling in my stomach increases. Chaff, a man from 11 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is also in.

Katniss is called. Then Haymitch. And I volunteer. I can't help but think of the parallels to last year. Katniss volunteered in place of her sister, which resulted in her ending up in the arena with me. This year I volunteered instead of Haymitch which guaranteed me a place in the arena with Katniss. What would have happened if Katniss had never volunteered? One of the announcers actually gets teary because it seems the odds will never be in our favour, we star-crossed lovers of District 12. Then she pulls herself together to say she bets that "these will be the best Games ever!"

Haymitch leaves the compartment without a word, and Effie, after making a few unconnected comments about this tribute or that, bids us good night. I rip out the pages from my notebook of the victors we won't face. I look up to find Katniss looking at me.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" I say. She seems reluctant.

"What are you going to do?" She asks.

"Just review my notes awhile. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. But I'll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, Katniss," I say.

She goes, and I know full well that I'll never go to bed myself that night. I won't be able to face the nightmare by myself, and I don't want to try.

I look over my notes, mentally clocking who we need to watch out for. Of course is far more complicated than last year, this time everyone's a victor. Everyone has killed. Eventually I decide that Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, and Finnick are the ones to really keep watch on coming from the career districts. I remember watching Finnick's games just a few weeks ago. Same with Cashmere and Gloss. To me Brutus seems like the one who could be the most threatening. Volunteering once is something, you don't know what your going in to there, but twice? After experiencing the horrors of the games once, why would you choose to go in again?

I flip the tapes around, watching everyone's fighting techniques and styles, desperately trying to cling to a shred of something which might help us.

Eventually I slot Brutus's tape in to the machine, and sit down to watch. I only watched it for the first time a few months ago, after the quell was announced, but somehow he seems even more vicious. I watch almost transfixed, as he bludgeons children to death, throwing spears and knives effortlessly through the air.

I hear movement behind me, and see Katniss standing in the door. I rise and switch off the tape, not wanting to watch anymore of it.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask her.

"Not for long," She says quietly.

"Want to talk about it?" I ask. I know that sometimes, well for me at least that works. But she shakes her head.

I open my arms, and she walks straight in to them, without hesitation. I realize that it's the first time since the quell was announced that I've given her any sort of affection. But all that I have done was made in the effort to keep her alive. I've missed her, the feel of her soft warm frame in my arms. I pull her closer to me, and bury my face in her silky hair, my lips just touch her neck. I wish that the world would just disappear, and just leave us here standing together. But the world doesn't wait.

The arrival of a Capitol attendant with some warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. "I brought an extra cup," he says.

"Thanks," Katniss says.

"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room.

"What's with him?" She says.

"I think he feels bad for us," I say.

"Right," she says, pouring the milk.

"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," I say. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions."

"I'm guessing they'll get over it once the blood starts flowing," She says flatly. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?"

"Not really. Just sort of skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques," I say.

"Who's next?" She asks.

"You pick," I say, holding out the box.

The tapes are marked with the year of the Games and the name of the victor. She digs around and brings out a tape. The year of the Games is fifty. That would make it the second Quarter Quell. And the name of the victor is Haymitch Abernathy.

"We never watched this one," She says.

I shake my head. "No. I knew Haymitch didn't want to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much."

"Is the person who won in twenty-five in here?" She asks.

"I don't think so. Whoever it was must be dead by now, and Effie only sent me victors we might have to face." I weigh Haymitch's tape in my hand. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?"

"It's the only Quell we have. We might pick up something valuable about how they work," She says. "We don't have to tell Haymitch we saw it."

"Okay," I agree, but somehow it seems weird, almost like we're invading Haymitch's privacy.

I put in the tape and she curls up next to me on the couch. After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes. The editors smash cut right into the reapings, where name after name after name is called.

By the time we get to District 12, I'm completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of kids going to certain death. There's a woman, not Effie, calling the names in 12, but she still begins with "Ladies first!" She calls out the name of a girl who's from the Seam, you can tell by the look of her, and then I hear the name "Maysilee Donner."

"Oh!" Says Katnis. "She was my mother's friend." The camera finds her in the crowd, clinging to two other girls. One of them looks very familiar.

"I think that's your mother hugging her," I say quietly.

Holding her hand and weeping is another girl who looks just like Maysilee.

"Madge," She says.

"That's her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something," I say, remembering something my dad once said in passing. "My dad mentioned it once."

Haymitch's name is called last of all. It's more of a shock to see him than my mother. Young. Strong. Hard to admit, but he was something of a looker. His hair dark and curly, those gray Seam eyes bright and, even then, dangerous.

"Oh. Peeta, you don't think he killed Maysilee, do you?" Katniss bursts out.

"With forty-eight players? I'd say the odds are against it," I answer.

The chariot rides — in which the District 12 kids are dressed in awful coal miners' outfits — and the interviews flash by. There's little time to focus on anyone. But since Haymitch is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and Caesar Flickerman, who looks exactly as he always does in his twinkling midnight blue suit. Only his dark green hair, eyelids, and lips are different.

"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?" asks Caesar.

Haymitch shrugs. "I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience bursts out laughing and Haymitch gives them a half smile. Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent.

He didn't have to reach far for that, did he?" Katniss says.

Now it's the morning the Games begin. We watch from the point of view of one of the tributes as she rises up through the tube from the Launch Room and into the arena. Katniss gives a slight gasp, and my own mouth hangs open. Disbelief is reflected on the faces of the players. Even Haymitch's eyebrows lift in pleasure, although they almost immediately knit themselves back into a scowl.

It's the most breathtaking place imaginable. The golden Cornucopia sits in the middle of a green meadow with patches of gorgeous flowers. The sky is azure blue with puffy white clouds. Bright songbirds flutter overhead. By the way some of the tributes are sniffing, it must smell fantastic. An aerial shot shows that the meadow stretches for miles. Far in the distance, in one direction, there seems to be a woods, in the other, a snowcapped mountain.

The beauty disorients many of the players, because when the gong sounds, most of them seem like they're trying to wake from a dream. Not Haymitch, though. He's at the Cornucopia, armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He heads for the woods before most of the others have stepped off their plates.

Eighteen tributes are killed in the bloodbath that first day. Others begin to die off and it becomes clear that almost everything in this pretty place—the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, even the scent of the flowers when inhaled too directly—is deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia are safe to consume. There's also a large, well-stocked Career pack of ten tributes scouring the mountain area for victims.

Haymitch has his own troubles over in the woods, where the fluffy golden squirrels turn out to be carnivorous and attack in packs, and the butterfly stings bring agony if not death. But he persists in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at his back.

Maysilee Donner turns out to be pretty resourceful herself, for a girl who leaves the Cornucopia with only a small backpack. Inside she finds a bowl, some dried beef, and a blowgun with two dozen darts. Making use of the readily available poisons, she soon turns the blowgun into a deadly weapon by dipping the darts in lethal substances and directing them into her opponents' flesh.

Four days in, the picturesque mountain erupts in a volcano that wipes out another dozen players, including all but five of the Career pack. With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining thirteen tributes — including Haymitch and Maysilee — have no choice but to confine themselves to the woods.

Haymitch seems bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the now volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forces him to circle back into the centre of the woods, where he encounters three of the Careers and pulls his knife. They may be much bigger and stronger, but

Haymitch has remarkable speed and has killed two when the third disarms him. That Career is about to slit his throat when a dart drops him to the ground.

Maysilee Donner steps out of the woods. "We'd live longer with two of us."

"Guess you just proved that," says Haymitch, rubbing his neck. "Allies?" Maysilee nods. And there they are, instantly drawn into one of those pacts you'd be hard-pressed to break if you ever expect to go home and face your district.

Just like Katniss and me, they do better together. Get more rest, work out a system to salvage more rainwater, fight as a team, and share the food from the dead tributes' packs. But Haymitch is still determined to keep moving on.

"Why?" Maysilee keeps asking, and he ignores her until she refuses to move any farther without an answer.

"Because it has to end somewhere, right?" says Haymitch. "The arena can't go on forever."

"What do you expect to find?" Maysilee asks.

"I don't know. But maybe there's something we can use," he says.

When they finally do make it through that impossible hedge, using a blowtorch from one of the dead Careers' packs, they find themselves on flat, dry earth that leads to a cliff. Far below, you can see jagged rocks.

"That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back," says Maysilee.

"No, I'm staying here," he says.

"All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway," she says. "I don't want it to come down to you and me."

"Okay," he agrees. That's all. He doesn't offer to shake her hand or even look at her. And she walks away.

Haymitch skirts along the edge of the cliff as if trying to figure something out. His foot dislodges a pebble and it falls into the abyss, apparently gone forever. But a minute later, as he sits to rest, the pebble shoots back up beside him. Haymitch stares at it, puzzled, and then his face takes on a strange intensity. He lobs a rock the size of his fist over the cliff and waits. When it flies back out and right into his hand, he starts laughing.

That's when we hear Maysilee begin to scream. The alliance is over and she broke it off, so no one could blame him for ignoring her. But Haymitch runs for her, anyway. He arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer her through the neck. He holds her hand while she dies. I think back to the victor's presentation ceremony, and seeing Katniss do the exact same thing with Rue.

Later that day, another tribute is killed in combat and a third gets eaten by a pack of those fluffy squirrels, leaving Haymitch and a girl from District 1 to vie for the crown. She's bigger than he is and just as fast, and when the inevitable fight comes, it's bloody and awful and both have received what could well be fatal wounds, when Haymitch is finally disarmed. He staggers through the beautiful woods, holding his intestines in, while she stumbles after him, carrying the ax that should deliver his deathblow. Haymitch makes a beeline for his cliff and has just reached the edge when she throws the axe. He collapses on the ground and it flies into the abyss. Now weaponless as well, the girl just stands there, trying to staunch the flow of blood pouring from her empty eye socket. She's thinking perhaps that she can outlast Haymitch, who's starting to convulse on the ground. But what she doesn't know, and what he does, is that the axe will return. And when it flies back over the ledge, it buries itself in her head. The cannon sounds, her body is removed, and the trumpets blow to announce Haymitch's victory.

I click of the tape, and we sit in silence for a while.

Finally I say, "That force field at the bottom of the cliff, it was like the one on the roof of the Training Center. The one that throws you back if you try to jump off and commit suicide. Haymitch found a way to turn it into a weapon."

"Not just against the other tributes, but the Capitol, too," Katniss says. "You know they didn't expect that to happen. It wasn't meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that he figured it out. I bet they had a good time trying to spin that one. Bet that's why I don't remember seeing it on television. It's almost as bad as us and the berries!"

And then she's laughing, properly manically laughing. I shake my head at her, not finding the situation remotely funny.

"Almost, but not quite," says Haymitch from behind us. We whip around, afraid he's going to be angry over us watching his tape, but he just smirks and takes a swig from a bottle of wine.

I've spent all these weeks getting to know who my competitors are, without even thinking about who my teammates are. Now a new kind of confidence is lighting up inside of me, because I think I finally know who Haymitch is. Surely someone who's caused the Capitol so much trouble can work with me to somehow find a way of bringing Katniss home alive.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Going through the routine with my prep team is almost unbearable. They all walk in to the room looking solemn, and when they look at me they all burst in to tears. As if I didn't have enough to deal with, I mean it's me that's going to have to face imminent death, not them.

Accalia keeps up a running whimper throughout, while Septimus keeps a stream of tears falling down his face the entire time. The only one that marginally manages to keep herself together is Cleopatra.

It turns out they really have become attached to me, and the idea of my returning to the arena has undone them. Combine that with the fact that by losing me they'll be losing their ticket to all kinds of big social events, particularly mine and Katniss's wedding, and the whole thing becomes unbearable.

With shaky hands they go through the whole routine. Soaking in baths full of foul smelling liquid, having my hair coated in various creams, and then my facial and chest hair is viciously waxed off. I find myself actually having to comfort my prep team, which considering that fact that it's me that's got to go in to the arena and not them, is infuriating. I don't let it show though, unlike them I manage to keep my head the whole time.

It's a relief when they scurry sobbing from the room, and Portia comes in. Portia who is usually so mild mannered and calm, even she looks slightly unstable.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you Portia," I say, and I rush to hug her. She accepts my embrace but she holds me for slightly longer than usual.

"Portia please don't cry," I say pleadingly as we break apart, "I've had enough of that this morning."

Portia seems to come back to herself, "Yes of course Peeta, I'm sorry, I just never thought it would turn out like this."

"None of us did Portia," I say quietly.

And after that she's the same strong, mild woman that I meant a year ago. We order lunch, eat it together in the sitting room, trying to talk about anything but the games, although somehow talking of nothing else.

"People aren't happy you know Peeta," She says quietly, "people in the Capitol get quiet attached to their victors, and most of them are devastated that you're going back in."

I think back to the Capitol attendant on the train, surely if so many people are unhappy about it, President Snow can call a halt to it? But no, of course he'd never do that.

I nod, "But seriously Portia can you have a word with the prep team? I can't go through a morning like that again."

"Yes, yes of course Peeta," She says.

I finish eating, and put down my knife and fork.

"So what have you got planned for us today, more fire?" I ask, with smile in an attempt to brighten the mood.

"Not exactly," she says smiling, "but I think you're going to make just as much of an impression as last year.

Portia does my makeup herself, but whereas last year both Katniss's and my faces were kept relatively makeup free, this year is completely different. Dramatic highlights and dark shadows. High arching eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, smoldering eyes, deep purple lips. No this year, we will be dangerous, unforgiving, merciless.

The costume looks deceptively simple at first, just a fitted black jumpsuit that covers me from the neck down. She places a half crown like the one I received as victor on my head, but it's made of a heavy black metal, not gold. Then she adjusts the light in the room to mimic twilight and presses a button just inside the fabric on my wrist. I look down, fascinated, as my ensemble slowly comes to life, first with a soft golden light but gradually transforming to the orange-red of burning coal. I look as if I have been coated in glowing embers — no, that I _am_ a glowing ember straight from our fireplace. The colours rise and fall, shift and blend, in exactly the way the coals do.

"It's amazing Portia," I say softly, "Thank you." And I hug her. As I do I catch sight of my face in the mirror, the black crown which is now glowing just like the jump suit, sends dramatic shadows over my face. I can't help but think what Katniss is going to look like dressed in the same thing, I find that I can't wait to see her.

"How do you do it?" I ask, still in awe.

"Cinna and I spend time watching a lot of fires," Says Portia. "Let's not run down your power pack." She says flicking a button at my wrist. "When you're on the chariot this time, no waving, no smiling. I just want you to look straight ahead, as if the entire audience is beneath your notice."

"Katniss will be good at that," I say with a sad smile. Portia looks at the floor.

"I am sorry you know Peeta, for how it all turned out."

"It's not your fault Portia," I say simply, but I feel a rush of affection for her.

I head down to the ground floor of the remake centre, where all the chariots will be waiting. Only to see Katniss, and District 4 tribute Finnick Odair deep in conversation.

Finnick Odair is something of a living legend in Panem. Since he won the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games when he was only fourteen, he's still one of the youngest victors. Being from District 4, he was a Career, so the odds were already in his favor, but what no trainer could claim to have given him was his extraordinary beauty. Tall, athletic, with golden skin and bronze-colored hair and those incredible eyes. While other tributes that year were hard-pressed to get a handful of grain or some matches for a gift, Finnick never wanted for anything, not food or medicine or weapons. It took about a week for his competitors to realize that he was the one to kill, but it was too late. He was already a good fighter with the spears and knives he had found in the Cornucopia. When he received a silver parachute with a trident—which may be the most expensive gift I've ever seen given in the arena—it was all over. District 4's industry is fishing. He'd been on boats his whole life. The trident was a natural, deadly extension of his arm. He wove a net out of some kind of vine he found, used it to entangle his opponents so he could spear them with the trident, and within a matter of days the crown was his.

Because of his youth, they couldn't really touch him for the first year or two. But ever since he turned sixteen, he's spent his time at the Games being dogged by those desperately in love with him. No one retains his favor for long. He can go through four or five in his annual visit. Old or young, lovely or plain, rich or very rich, he'll keep them company and take their extravagant gifts, but he never stays, and once he's gone he never comes back.

I reach Katniss, just as he walks away, draped in a golden net, so a huge amount of his body is on show.

"What did Finnick Odair want?" I ask intrigued.

She turns, puts her lips close to mine, and drops her eyelids. "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," She says in an attempt at seduction.

I laugh. "Ugh. Not really."

"Really," She says. "I'll tell you more when my skin stops crawling."

"Do you think we'd have ended up like this if only one of us had won?" I ask, glancing around at the other victors. "Just another part of the freak show?"

"Sure. Especially you," I say.

"Oh. And why especially me?" I say with a smile.

"Because you have a weakness for beautiful things and I don't," She says with an air of superiority. "They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you'd be lost entirely."

"Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness," I point out. "Except possibly when it comes to you." The music is beginning and I see the wide doors opening for the first chariot, hear the roar of the crowd. "Shall we?" I say and I hold out a hand to help her into the chariot.

She climbs up, and pulls me on after her. "Hold still," She says, and straightens my crown. "Have you seen your suit turned on? We're going to be fabulous again."

"Absolutely. But Portia says we're to be very above it all. No waving or anything," I say. "Where are they, anyway?"

"I don't know." She says, "Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on." We do, and as we begin to glow, I can see people pointing at us and chattering, and I know that, once again, we'll be the talk of the opening ceremonies. I look and Katniss, and see that she looks as deadly as fire itself, her crown casting dramatic shadows over her face, those grey eyes bright, and dangerous.

"Are we supposed to hold hands this year?" She asks.

"I guess they've left it up to us," I say.

Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one. I made a vow to protect Katniss last time, and this time it will be exactly the same. I survived because of luck, but this time my luck has run out.

The voice of the crowd rises into one universal scream as we roll into the fading evening light, but neither one of us reacts. I simply fix my eyes on a point far in the distance and pretend there is no audience, no hysteria. I can't help catching glimpses of us on the huge screens along the route, and we are not just beautiful, we are dark and powerful. No, more. We star-crossed lovers from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little the rewards of our victory, do not seek the fans' favour, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. We are unforgiving.

As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of the other stylists have tried to steal Cinna and Portia's idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at least make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from District 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts?

Katniss and I, on the other hand, are so mesmerizing with our ever-changing coal costumes that most of the other tributes are staring at us. We seem particularly riveting to the pair from District 6, who are known morphling addicts. Both bone thin, with sagging yellowish skin. They can't tear their overlarge eyes away, even when President Snow begins to speak from his balcony, welcoming us all to the Quell. The anthem plays, and as we make our final trip around the circle.

Katniss and I wait until the doors of the Training Centre have closed behind us to relax. Cinna and Portia are there, pleased with our performance, and Haymitch has made an appearance this year as well, only he's not at our chariot, he's over with the tributes of District 11. I see him nod in our direction and then they follow him over to greet us.

I know Chaff by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement, like they did with me when they had to amputate my lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it.

The woman, Seeder, looks almost like she could be from the Seam, with her olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver. Only her golden brown eyes mark her as from another district. She must be around sixty, but she still looks strong, and there's no sign she's turned to liquor or morphling or any other chemical form of escape over the years. Without hesitation her and Katniss embrace each other, and I realize that it must be because of Rue and Thresh.

Chaff throws his good arm around her, and kisses her full on the mouth. She jerks back startled, whilst he and Haymitch guffaw. Despite the fact that he just went and kissed my fiancée, Katniss's expression makes it hard for me to suppress a laugh.

That's about all the time we get before the Capitol attendants are firmly directing us toward the elevators. I get the distinct feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still linked with Katniss's, someone else rustles up to our side. The girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls.

Johanna Mason. From District 7 Lumber and paper, thus the tree. She won by very convincingly portraying herself as weak and helpless so that she would be ignored. Then she demonstrated a wicked ability to murder. She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. "Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I'd gotten Cinna. You look fantastic."

Her conversation is clearly directed at Katniss so I stay quiet.

"Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet." Says Katniss, I smile, Katniss couldn't care less about clothes.

"I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back," says Johanna.

While we wait for the elevators, Johanna unzips the rest of her tree, letting it drop to the floor, and then kicks it away in disgust. Except for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing. "That's better."

Katniss's expression is hilarious, even though Johanna talks to me about my paintings for the rest of the elevator ride.

She leaves, and after Chaff and Seeder get off at their floor, she tosses my hand aside, and I burst out laughing.

"What?" She says, turning on me as we step out on our floor.

"It's you, Katniss. Can't you see?" I say. "

What's me?" She says.

"Why they're all acting like this. Finnick with his sugar cubes and Chaff kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down." I unsuccessfully try and put on a more serious tone, "They're playing with you because you're so ... you know."

"No, I don't know," She says.

"It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure," I say finally.

"I am not!" She says indignantly. "I've been practically ripping your clothes off every time there's been a camera for the last year!"

"Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure," I say, "For me, you're perfect. They're just teasing you."

"No, they're laughing at me, and so are you!" She says.

"No." I shake my head, but I'm still suppressing a smile, when the other elevator opens.

Haymitch and Effie join us, looking pleased about something. Then Haymitch's face grows hard.

I see he's staring behind us at the entrance to the dining room.

Effie blinks in the same direction, then says brightly, "Looks like they've got you a matched set this year."

I turn around and find the redheaded Avox girl, the one that Katniss recognised last year. I notice that the young man beside her, another Avox, also has red hair. That must be what Effie meant by a matched set.

A chill runs through me. I know the man. Not well, but well enough for it to thoroughly unnerve me.

Our new Avox is Darius.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I only ever saw Darius in passing, back in District 12. But Katniss knew him far better, from all the time she spent in the hob. I shoot a sideways look at her, and I see the shock registering on her face.

Haymitch grabs her wrist as if anticipating her next move, but she doesn't do anything. She must know that any act of recognition would only result in punishment for him; she stands there just as mute as Darius has now been rendered.

Katniss wrenches her wrist away from Haymitch, and I hear the door of her room slam. I look at Darius sadly, wondering that if Katniss and I had got to that square earlier, and saved Gale, he would have been spared this terrible fate.

I leave them myself, and bolt myself in to my own room. I think of Katniss, she's separated from me by just a few bricks. We might as well be on different planets. I know that I have no right to be in this much shock, I barely knew Darius. He seemed pleasant enough though whenever I did see him, and know that he was willing to step in and save Gale…

I change out of my glowing ember like costume, and fold it neatly on the bed along with my crown. I change in to an ordinary shirt and trousers, and go to wash the dramatic make up off my face.

I sit on the bed, constantly reminding myself of the task at hand. 'Keep Katniss alive' I think repeatedly. But is that even going to be possible? Have Katniss and I caused so much trouble, that President Snow has given direct orders for us both to be killed in the arena? Well I don't believe that the clause for the quell was a coincidence at all, so the odds really aren't looking in our favour at the moment. I'm going to do my best though, and if we both go down, then we've lit the fuse for potential rebellion, and hopefully our deaths won't be in vain.

Effie knocks on my door for dinner, and I go down to the dining room. Katniss doesn't look at me for the whole meal, despite my best efforts to catch her eye.

"Well, I think it's fair to say that Cinna and Portia have done it again!" Effie trills.

"Yes they have," I agree, "Thank you," I incline my head towards them and they smile.

We all talk about the opening ceremonies, except Katniss. In fact the only time she ever does anything is when she knocks a dish to the floor. She crouches to clean the mess up, and Darius rushes to help. Although they are concealed on the floor, I can tell that silently they're apologising, saying goodbye.

"That isn't your job, Katniss!" Effie clucks, and she gets back up to the table.

When we go in to the living room to watch the recap of the opening ceremonies, she wedges herself between Cinna and Haymitch on the sofa. She's probably still angry at me for laughing at her earlier, but I get the feeling that it goes deeper than that. Almost like Darius and all he represents belongs to her. Belongs to her and Gale, but not me. Of course the worst part of it is that she's one hundred percent right.

As I watch the procession to the City Circle, I think how it's bad enough that they dress us all up in costumes and parade us through the streets in chariots on a regular year. Kids in costumes are silly, but aging victors, it turns out, are pitiful. A few who are on the younger side, like Johanna and Finnick, or whose bodies haven't fallen into disrepair, like Seeder and Brutus, can still manage to maintain a little dignity. But the majority, who are in the clutches of drink or morphling or illness, look grotesque in their costumes, depicting cows and trees and loaves of bread. Last year we chattered away about each contestant, but tonight there's only the occasional comment. Small wonder the crowd goes wild when Katniss and I appear, looking so young and strong and beautiful in our brilliant costumes. The very image of what tributes should be.

As soon as it's over Katniss jumps to her feet. She thanks Cinna and Portia, before rushing out of the room to bed. Effie calls a reminder to meet early for breakfast to work out our training strategy, but even her voice sounds hollow. I'm about to go myself, when an idea hits me.

"Portia, can I talk to you for a minute," I say. She nods, and we go in to one of the smaller rooms off the dining room.

"Listen," I say quickly, "I know that once I get in to that arena Katniss is going to do all she can to save me, but that cannot happen. I swore to myself that I would get her out alive. I need your help Portia." It's almost like seeing those opening ceremonies has spurred me on. Yes President Snow may have already ordered out deaths, but I'm going to put an abrupt stop to it if I can.

"So what do you want me to do Peeta?" She says seriously.

"I need a District token," I say, and I describe to her exactly what I want. It's a tough job, but I trust Portia completely.

"I'll see what I can do," She says, with a straight face. "You'd better go and get some rest now."

I nod, and go back down the corridor. As I pass Katniss's door I pause. I want to try and relieve the tension between us, after all my time left is seriously limited. I knock, but there's no answer.

I go back to my own room, and somehow find sleep. But now that I'm back in the Capitol, I was wrong to think that the terrors that haunt my sleep might actually leave me in peace.

I stumble from scene to scene, how many times do I have to watch her die? She's torn apart by mutts, her body swollen and disfigured by tracker jacker stings, watching her fall from the tallest tree her body landing with a crack on the ground. And her screams, her screams are everywhere, terrible agonising shrieks of pain and horror.

I wake early, my body rigid with fear. I go through the usual routine of calming myself down, and then go down to the dining room for breakfast.

The rooms empty except for Haymitch, so I load up my plate before joining him. On his wrist he wears a solid-gold bangle with a pattern of flames — this must be his concession to Effie's matching-token plan — that he twists unhappily.

"So what's the plan this year Haymitch?" I ask.

"You need to make some friends, ally yourself with people," He says simply.

"I don't much like the sound of that Haymitch, I don't really trust anyone. Can't it just be Katniss and me." I say honestly. Haymitch turns in his seat to look at me directly in the face.

"I know, but look at the situation. These victors have known each other for years, most of them are close friends. Who do you think their going to target first?" He says.

"Katniss," I say quietly. "We're going to keep her alive right Haymitch? Between the two of us we'll get her home."

Haymitch stares at me for a few moments. "Okay." he says finally.

"You Promise?" I say. He nods, before glancing at the clock.

"Where is that girl," He says angrily rising from his seat, and I hear him stomp down the corridor and pound on her door, ordering her in to the dining room now.

It's another five minutes before Katniss finally walks in to the dining room.

"You're late," Haymitch snarls at her.

"Sorry. I slept in after the mutilated-tongue nightmares kept me up half the night." It's clear that it was meant to sound hostile, but her voice catches at the end of the sentence.

Haymitch gives her a scowl, then relents. "All right, never mind. Today, in training, you've got two jobs. One, stay in love."

"Obviously," She says.

"And two, make some friends," says Haymitch.

"No," She says. "I don't trust any of them, I can't stand most of them, and I'd rather operate with just the two of us."

"That's what I said at first, but—" I begin.

"But it won't be enough," Haymitch insists. "You're going to need more allies this time around."

"Why?" She asks.

"Because you're at a distinct disadvantage. Your competitors have known each other for years. So who do you think they're going to target first?" he says.

"Us. And nothing we're going to do is going to override any old friendship," She says. "So why bother?"

"Because you can fight. You're popular with the crowd. That could still make you desirable allies. But only if you let the others know you're willing to team up with them," says Haymitch.

"You mean you want us in the Career pack this year?" She says, unable to hide her distaste.

"That's been our strategy, hasn't it? To train like Careers?" counters Haymitch. "And who makes up the Career pack is generally agreed upon before the Games begin. Peeta barely got in with them last year."

I think back to teaming up with Cato and the others last year. It was a hideous experience, I remember having to scour the forest at night, hunting for victims. I suppress a slight shudder.

. "So we're to try to get in with Finnick and Brutus — is that what you're saying?" Katniss says

"Not necessarily. Everyone's a victor. Make your own pack if you'd rather. Choose who you like. I'd suggest Chaff and Seeder. Although Finnick's not to be ignored," says Haymitch. "Find someone to team up with who might be of some use to you. Remember, you're not in a ring full of trembling children anymore. These people are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear to be in."

Effie shows up a bit early to take us down because last year, even though we were on time, we were the last two tributes to show up. But Haymitch tells her he doesn't want her taking us down to the gym. None of the other victors will be showing up with a babysitter, and being the youngest, it's even more important we look self-reliant. So she has to satisfy herself with taking us to the elevator, fussing over our hair, and pushing the button for us.

It's such a short ride that there's no time for conversation, but when I take her hand she doesn't pull it away. Feeling slightly happier that she may have forgiven me for laughing at her, we walk out of the elevator together.

Effie needn't have worried about us being the last to arrive. Only Brutus and the woman from District 2, Enobaria, are present. Enobaria looks to be about thirty and all I can remember about her is that, in hand-to-hand combat, she killed one tribute by ripping open his throat with her teeth. She became so famous for this act that, after she was a victor, she had her teeth cosmetically altered so each one ends in a sharp point like a fang and is inlaid with gold. She has no shortage of admirers in the Capitol.

By ten o'clock, only about half of the tributes have shown up. Atala, the woman who runs training, begins her spiel right on time, unfazed by the poor attendance. Maybe she expected it. I'm sort of relieved, because that means there are a dozen people I don't have to pretend to make friends with. Atala runs through the list of stations, which include both combat and survival skills, and releases us to train.

Katniss tells me that we'd do better to split up, as we'd cover more territory. While I agree with the principal of it, I can't help but think that she just wants to get away from me. She goes over to the knot tying station, while I go and throw spears with Chaff and Brutus.

Chaff turns out to be okay, he talks to loud, and makes a lot of bad jokes, but most of them are at his own expense. I start to see why he and Haymitch are such good friends. Haymitch's mind tends to run darkly, I can see how Chaff's jovial good humour would be a welcome break to him. Brutus on the other hand I do not like. His experiences in the arena don't seem to have effected him at all, he talks casually about how he can't wait to see the blood flowing again.

"You've landed on your feet there boy," He says in a somewhat greasy voice, and directing my gaze over to Katniss, who's talking to Finnick. I give him a cold smile, and move on to the knife throwing station.

The morphlings from District 6 are in the camouflage station, painting each other's faces with bright pink swirls. The male tribute from District 5 is vomiting wine on the sword-fighting floor. Finnick and the old woman from his district are using the archery station. Johanna Mason is naked again and oiling her skin down for a wrestling lesson. I glance over to look for Katniss and see her talking to the two tributes from District 3 at the fire starting station.

The other tributes all seem okay, which just makes the whole situation even worse, as all of them must die if I'm going to keep Katniss alive.

I'm talking to Seeder and some of the others when Johanna Mason comes up to me.

"Interesting company your fiancée's chosen," She says with a smirk. I look over to find Katniss, and find her at the shelter building station, still in the company of the two tributes from District 3.

"Why?" I ask perplexed, granted they don't look like much, but they managed to win their games didn't they?

"It's just no one ever really takes much notice of old Nuts and Volts," she says with a laugh.

From what I can gather, the two from District 3 seem to be something of a running joke amongst the other tributes.

When lunch is announced, the ten victor's I've been talking too, pull all of the smaller tables together, so they form one large one.

I catch up with Katniss by the stew, as we both load up our tray with food from the carts around the room.

"How's it going?" I ask her

"Good. Fine. I like the District Three victors," She says. "Wiress and Beetee."

"Really?" I ask. "They're something of a joke to the others."

"Why does that not surprise me?" She says.

"Johanna's nicknamed them Nuts and Volts," I say. "I think she's Nuts and he's Volts."

"And so I'm stupid for thinking they might be useful. Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling," She retorts angrily. Clearly she hasn't forgiven me for yesterday, and I suppose she's probably got a million other things preying on her mind.

"Actually I think the nickname's been around for years. And I didn't mean that as an insult. I'm just sharing information," I say.

"Well, Wiress and Beetee are smart. They invent things. They could tell by sight that a force field had been put up between us and the Gamemakers. And if we have to have allies, I want them." She tosses the ladle back in a pot of stew, splattering us both with the gravy.

"What are you so angry about?" I ask, wiping the gravy from my shirtfront. "Because I teased you on the elevator? I'm sorry. I thought you would just laugh about it."

"Forget it," She says with a shake of her head. "It's a lot of things."

"Darius," I say.

"Darius. The Games. Haymitch making us team up with the others," She says.

"It can just be you and me, you know," I say softly.

"I know. But maybe Haymitch is right," She says. "Don't tell him I said so, but he usually is, where the Games are concerned."

"Well, you can have final say about our allies. But right now, I'm leaning toward Chaff and Seeder," I say.

"I'm okay with Seeder, not Chaff," She says, clearly remembering last night. "Not yet, anyway."

"Come on and eat with him. I promise, I won't let him kiss you again," I say.

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to talk to as many of the other victors as possible. Cashmere and Gloss, remain cool and distant, as does Enobaria, but as I said to Katniss at lunch, I'm definitely leaning towards Seeder and Chaff.

I notice Katniss goes over to the archery station at some point in the afternoon. I realize that I've never really properly seen her shoot before, so I stop to look.

She's incredible. The trainer begins to launch fake birds high into the air for her to hit. Since she's hitting everything he throws up, he starts increasing the number of birds he sends airborne. When she manages to take down five birds in one round, the rest of the gym is silent. She turns to see the majority of the victors have stopped to watch her. Their faces show everything from envy to hatred to admiration.

After training, Katniss and I hang out, waiting for Haymitch and Effie to show up for dinner. When we're called to eat, Haymitch pounces on her immediately. "So at least half the victors have instructed their mentors to request you as an ally. I know it can't be your sunny personality."

"They saw her shoot," I explain with a smile. "Actually, I saw her shoot, for real, for the first time. I'm about to put in a formal request myself."

"You're that good?" Haymitch asks her. "So good that Brutus wants you?"

She shrugs. "But I don't want Brutus. I want Mags and District Three."

"Of course you do." Haymitch sighs and orders a bottle of wine. "I'll tell everybody you're still making up your mind."

The next few days pass, and gradually Katniss and I spend time with almost every tribute headed for the arena.

The final day of training ends with our private sessions. We each get fifteen minutes before the Gamemakers to amaze them with our skills, but I don't know what any of us might have to show them. There's a lot of kidding about it at lunch. What we might do. Sing, dance, strip, tell jokes. Mags from District 4, decides she's just going to take a nap. I don't know what I'm going to do. Throw some weights I guess.

As the boy from 12, I'm scheduled to go second last. The dining room gets quieter and quieter as the tributes file out to go perform. It's easier to keep up the irreverent, invincible manner we've all adopted when there are more of us.

Eventually it's just Katniss and me left in the dining room together. I reach across the table, and take both of her hands in mine.

"Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I can't really use them for target practice this year, with the force field up and all. Maybe make some fishhooks. What about you?"

"Not a clue. I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something," I say.

"Do some more camouflage," She suggests.

"If the morphlings have left me anything to work with," I say wryly. "They've been glued to that station since training started."

We sit in silence awhile and then she blurts out the thing that's on both our minds. "How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?"

"I don't know." I lean my forehead down on our entwined hands.

"I don't want them as allies. Why did Haymitch want us to get to know them?" She says. "It'll make it so much harder than last time. Except for Rue maybe. But I guess I never really could've killed her, anyway. She was just too much like Prim."

I look up at her, my brow creased in thought. "Her death was the most despicable, wasn't it?"

"None of them were very pretty," She says.

Then I'm called and I go back in to the gymnasium, leaving Katniss alone. I stand startled for a few moments, looking up at the Gamemakers completely unsure of what to do.

I look over to the camouflage station, there's still a lot of material to work with there. But what would I do with it? I think back to the conversation Katniss and I just had, and I try to remember all she ever told me about Rue. How she could jump from tree to tree, how Katniss sang to her as she died, and how Katniss covered her body in wildflowers…

I gather a load of the camouflage materials, set them on the floor, and get to work. My fingers move quickly worried I might run out of time. I'm pretty sure that my body is obscuring the picture from the Gamemakers view. When I'm finished I jump up, and stand to the side of the painting so they can see the full effect.

I hear gasps of shock. For one moment I want them to think. To think about how it was them that was responsible for killing that little girl.

Plutarch Heavensbee the head Gamemaker steps forward, his eyes wide with shock.

"You may go Mr Mellark," he says in a careful voice. I don't need to be told twice, I walk in to the elevator, and press the button for floor twelve.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello all, just you let you know that I'll be away with no access to a computer for the next two days so I won't be able to update. Thank you to everyone who has read the story up to this point, and please review :)**

Chapter 16

I can't find anyone when I get up to the twelfth floor, they must all be getting ready for dinner. My heart it pounding in my chest, my breathing shallow. Maybe it was too impulsive, but just looking at the Gamemakers, I wanted to hold them responsible at least for a minute.

"Her death was the most despicable, wasn't it." My conversation with Katniss plays through in my mind. Poor tiny little Rue, a girl who never hurt anyone in her life. Now dead, all because of the Capitol.

I go to my room, and have a long shower, trying to get rid of the dye that's stained my fingers. On the whole, satisfying as the looks on the Gamemakers faces may have been to me, I haven't done any of us any favours. I know that Katniss was always the main target of President Snow's fury, but by doing this I've made myself a target. Of course that in itself doesn't bother me, but it's going to make keeping Katniss alive a far more difficult job. Still I can't say that I'm sorry I did it.

As we gather for dinner I take a look at Katniss but neither of us say anything. I notice her looking at my hands, which are still faintly covered with the dye.

Once the soup is served, Haymitch gets right to the issue on everyone's mind. "All right, so how did your private sessions go?"

I exchange a look with Katniss, some of the original excitement has left me, and I find that I'm slightly reluctant to say anything. Katniss seems to be thinking the same feeling as me. "You first," She tells me. "It must have been really special. I had to wait for forty minutes to go in."

"Well, I — I did the camouflage thing, like you suggested, Katniss." I hesitate. "Not exactly camouflage. I mean, I used the dyes."

"To do what?" asks Portia.

"You painted something, didn't you? A picture." Katniss says softly.

"Did you see it?" I ask.

"No. But they'd made a real point of covering it up," She tells me. I'm disappointed that she didn't see it, I think that she would have appreciated its meaning.

"Well, that would be standard. They can't let one tribute know what another did," says Effie, unconcerned. "What did you paint, Peeta?" She looks a little misty. "Was it a picture of Katniss?"

"Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?" Katniss says, somehow annoyed.

"To show he's going to do everything he can to defend you. That's what everyone in the Capitol's expecting, anyway. Didn't he volunteer to go in with you?" Effie says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Actually, I painted a picture of Rue," I say, a nervous knot suddenly starting in my stomach. "How she looked after Katniss had covered her in flowers."

There's a long pause at the table while everyone absorbs this. "And what exactly were you trying to accomplish?" Haymitch asks in a very measured voice.

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment," I try to explain. "For killing that little girl."

"This is dreadful." Effie sounds like she's about to cry. "That sort of thinking ... it's forbidden, Peeta. Absolutely. You'll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss."

I'm tempted to make a retort, what more trouble could I bring on us? They're probably going to kill us both in a few days anyway. But Effie looks so upset I hold it back.

"I have to agree with Effie on this one," says Haymitch. Portia and Cinna remain silent, but their faces are very serious. Katniss looks shocked, but actually impressed.

"I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it," Katniss says.

"You ... hung ... Seneca Crane?" says Cinna.

"Yes. I was showing off my new knot-tying skills, and he somehow ended up at the end of the noose," She says in a casual voice. I can't help but admire her, even though she's just made my job of keeping her alive a thousand times more difficult. But I suppose I kind of did that myself too.

"Oh, Katniss," says Effie in a hushed voice. "How do you even know about that?"

"Is it a secret? President Snow didn't act like it was. In fact, he seemed eager for me to know," She says. Effie leaves the table with her napkin pressed to her face. "Now I've upset Effie. I should have lied and said I shot some arrows."

"You'd have thought we planned it," I say, with the ghost of a smile on my face.

"Didn't you?" asks Portia. Her fingers press her eyelids closed as if she's warding off a very bright light.

"No," Katniss says, looking directly at me almost with a new sense of appreciation. "Neither of us even knew what we were going to do before we went in."

"And, Haymitch?" I say, deciding we might as well get everything out in the open now. "We decided we don't want any other allies in the arena."

"Good. Then I won't be responsible for you killing off any of my friends with your stupidity," he says.

"That's just what we were thinking," Katniss tells him.

We finish the meal in silence, I can't help but feeling like a child whose done something wrong. If the situation wasn't so grave, it might have been funny.

When we rise to go into the sitting room, Cinna puts his arm around Katniss and says,

"Come on and let's go get those training scores."

We gather around the television set and a red-eyed Effie rejoins us. The tributes' faces come up, district by district, and their scores flash under their pictures. One through twelve. Predictably high scores for Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, Enobaria, and Finnick. Low to medium for the rest.

"Have they ever given a zero?" Katniss asks, voicing what I've been thinking.

"No, but there's a first time for everything," Cinna answers.

And it turns out he's right. Because when Katniss and I each pull a twelve, we make Hunger Games history. No one feels like celebrating, though.

"Why did they do that?" Katniss says.

"So that the others will have no choice but to target you," says Haymitch flatly. "Go to bed. I can't stand to look at either one of you."

I walk Katniss down to her room in silence, but before I can say good night, she wraps her arms around me and rests her head against my chest. My hands slide up her back and my cheek leans against her hair. "I'm sorry if I made things worse," She says.

"No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?" I say.

"I don't know. To show them that I'm more than just a piece in their Games?" She says.

I laugh, remembering last year, when was desperately trying to explain how I was feeling. How didn't want them to change me. She didn't understand my meaning then. But she does now.

"Me, too," I tell her. "And I'm not saying I'm not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I'm perfectly honest about it ..."

"If you're perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway," She finishes for me.

"It's crossed my mind," I admit. "But even if that happens, everyone will know we've gone out fighting, right?"

"Everyone will," She replies.

"So what should we do with our last few days?" She adds.

"I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you," I say honestly.

"Come on, then," She says, pulling me in to her room. I realize just how lonely I've been since we came to the Capitol, almost starved of human affection. Just the soft sound of her breathing in the dark next to me, is enough to lull me off to sleep.

I dream that Katniss and I are running through the meadow back in District 12. But we're older, much older, probably in our late twenties. It doesn't take me long to notice that we're not alone either. I turn around when I hear the childish peal of laughter, and see two children running after us. One, a little girl with a cloud of dark hair, and my blue eyes, the other a little boy with my blonde hair at Katniss's beautiful striking grey eyes. Our children. We all run together in the meadow, stopping to rest under a large willow tree. I gather the children in my arms, and Katniss starts to sing, in that beautiful clear voice.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray  
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

I come back in to consciousness and I'm aware that I'm smiling. But then I'm overwhelmed by sadness. My dream had felt so real, but now I have to return to our dangerous reality. The future that I dreamed about, is one that can never happen. President Snow has seen to that. I open my eyes, and I see the grey eyes starring back at me. The grey eyes that had belonged to my son, and the dark hair that belonged to my daughter. The lost children that I'll never have.

"No nightmares," I say.

"No nightmares," She confirms. "You?"

"None. I'd forgotten what a real night's sleep feels like," I say, because my sleep had been peaceful, and bright. It was only when I woke up that the sadness dawned on me.

We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been cancelled.

"Really?" I ask, taking the note from her hand and examining it. "Do you know what this means? We'll have the whole day to ourselves."

"It's too bad we can't go somewhere," She says wistfully.

"Who says we can't?" I ask.

The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. We eat. We lie in the sun. Katniss snaps off hanging vines and use her newfound knowledge from training to practice knots and weave nets. I sketch her doing it. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof—one of us throws an apple into it and the other person has to catch it.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, Katniss is lying in my lap, while I fiddle with her soft her. I can't help but think of the same hair, but on the little rosy faced girl that I saw in my dream. I keep thinking of how happy we are right now, how perfect this one moment is. My hands stop stroking her hair, and I take in the fullness of this moment with Katniss.

"What?" She asks, as my hands lie still.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever," I say.

"Okay."

My face breaks in to a smile "Then you'll allow it?" I say.

"I'll allow it," She says.

My fingers go back to her hair, and after a few minutes she dozes off. Her face completely relaxes in sleep, and she looks so beautiful I don't think I'll ever be able to look away. The tears start running down my face before I can stop them, but I wipe them away careful not to disturb Katniss.

I rouse her to see the sunset. It's a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol. "I didn't think you'd want to miss it," I say.

"Thanks," She says, and we watch the sun go down in silence.

We don't go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons us.

"I'm glad. I'm tired of making everyone around me so miserable," I say, "Everybody crying. Or Haymitch ..."

We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to Katniss's room without encountering anyone.

The sight of Katniss and I sleeping in the same bed is too much for her prep team the next morning, who burst in to tears at the sight of us. Hoping my own prep team won't be so teary, I go off to my own room for prep.

They're not crying, Portia clearly told them to control themselves, but saying that the whole experience is not nice. Accalia trims my hair with shaking fingers, her bottom lip trembling too. Septimus is deathly pale, looking even more so because of his neon green hair. They manage to hold it together, and when they leave each of them pats me on the shoulder and gives me a look. I know that look because it's the one I gave my family when I was reaped for the first time. A silent goodbye. They know as well as I that I won't be returning.

It's a relief when Portia walks in carrying a garment bag.

"So what am I wearing tonight?" I ask eyeing the bag.

"President Snow ordered for you to wear this," She says apologetically, "Our objections were ignored."

She unzips the bag to show an elegant tuxedo and white gloves. The kind of clothes that men here in the Capitol wear to get married.

"Katniss is in her wedding dress then." I say quietly.

"Yes, even though they announced the quarter quell on the night of the photo shoot, people still voted for their favourite dress. President Snow wanted you to match." Portia replies.

Back home everything is so much simpler. A woman usually rents a white dress that's been worn hundreds of times. The man wears something clean that's not mining clothes. They fill out some forms at the Justice Building and are assigned a house. Family and friends gather for a meal or bit of cake, if it can be afforded. Even if it can't, there's always a traditional song we sing as the new couple crosses the threshold of their home. And we have our own little ceremony, where they make their first fire, toast a bit of bread, and share it. Maybe it's old-fashioned, but no one really feels married in District 12 until after the toasting.

I quickly dress in the suit, and then look at myself in the mirror.

"How do I look?"

"Very handsome," says Portia, smoothing down the shoulders. I turn around to look at her, and she pulls something out of her pocket.

"The District token Peeta," She says holding it out to me. I take it in my hands, a golden disk hanging on a chain. A mockingjay carved in to the metal. My fingers slide along a catch at the side, and the necklace flips open. Inside the locket are two pictures, on the right side, Katniss's mother and Prim, laughing. And on the left, Gale. I know that Haymitch has made promises to both of us to keep the other safe, with this I can hopefully persuade her how much more her life is worth.

"Oh Portia thank you," I breathe softly. "How?" I ask looking up in to her kind face.

"Well the necklace was easy, mockingjay jewellery is very fashionable at the moment, and after a quick phone call to District 12 Katniss's mother sent me the pictures."

I don't need to say anything else, I pull Portia in to a tight hug. We stand there for ages, savouring the moment until I'm torn away.

We break apart, and despite the promise she made, I see tears glistening in her eyes. I hand the necklace back to her, as she wipes the tears away.

"Keep it safe for me until tomorrow?" I ask, and she nods.

As we go down to the lobby, I think about what I'm going to say in the interviews. I managed to blow everyone out of the water last year, and I'm determined to do the same thing.

We meet up with Cinna and Katniss in the lobby. Katniss is looking breath taking in a silk wedding dress, decorated with huge amounts of pearls. As I look at her I think of the wedding we'll never have, and I think of my dream. Those two laughing children that the Capitol has also taken from me. An idea comes to me. It's risky yes, but what more have I got to lose?

The other tributes have already gathered offstage and are talking softly, but when Katniss and I arrive, they fall silent. I realize everyone's staring daggers at her wedding dress.

Finally Finnick says, "I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing."

"He didn't have any choice. President Snow made him," Katniss says, somewhat defensively.

Cashmere tosses her flowing blond curls back and spits out, "Well, you look ridiculous!" She grabs her brother's hand and pulls him into place to lead our procession onto the stage. The other tributes begin to line up as well. I'm confused because, while they all are angry, some are giving us sympathetic pats on the shoulder. Johanna Mason actually stops to straighten her pearl necklace.

"Make him pay for it, okay?" she says.

And then we're all sitting out onstage and Caesar Flickerman, hair and face highlighted in lavender this year, has done his opening spiel and the tributes begin their interviews. This is the first time I realize the depth of betrayal felt among the victors and the rage that accompanies it. But they are so smart, so wonderfully smart about how they play it, because it all comes back to reflect on the government and President Snow in particular. Not everyone. There are the old throwbacks, like Brutus and Enobaria, who are just here for another Games, and those too baffled or drugged or lost to join in on the attack. But there are enough victors who still have the wits and the nerve to come out fighting.

Cashmere starts the ball rolling with a speech about how she just can't stop crying when she thinks of how much the people in the Capitol must be suffering because they will lose us. Gloss recalls the kindness shown here to him and his sister. Beetee questions the legality of the Quell in a nervous, twitchy way, wondering if it's been fully examined by experts of late. Finnick recites a poem he wrote to his one true love in the Capitol, and about a hundred people faint because they're sure he means them. By the time Johanna Mason gets up, she's asking if something can't be done about the situation. Surely the creators of the Quarter Quell never anticipated such love forming between the victors and the Capitol. No one could be so cruel as to sever such a deep bond. Seeder quietly ruminates about how, back in District 11, everyone assumes President Snow is all-powerful. So if he's all-powerful, why doesn't he change the Quell? And Chaff, who comes right on her heels, insists the president could change the Quell if he wanted to, but he must not think it matters much to anyone.

By the time Katniss is introduced, the audience is an absolute wreck. People have been weeping and collapsing and even calling for change. The sight of her in my white silk bridal gown practically causes a riot. No more star-crossed lovers living happily ever after, no more wedding. I can see even Caesar's professionalism showing some cracks as he tries to quiet them so I can speak, but her three minutes are ticking quickly away.

Finally there's a lull and he gets out, "So, Katniss, obviously this is a very emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Her voice trembles as she speaks. "Only that I'm so sorry you won't get to be at my wedding ... but I'm glad you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just ... the most beautiful thing?"

And then she's twirling, and my eyes widen in alarm. The dress in on fire, the smoke engulfing her, charred bits of black silk swirl into the air, and pearls clatter to the stage. But still she keeps spinning, until the fire is all gone, and slowly she comes to a stop.

I gasp as I make out her figure through the smoke. She's in an exact design of her wedding dress, only it appears to me made of tiny black feathers. Clothed in black except for the white patches on her sleeves.

And then I realise. Cinna has turned her in to a mockingjay.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I stare wide eyed, not even daring to blink. The white of the headdress had burned away, leaving a smooth, fitted veil of black that drapes into the neckline of the dress in the back.

Smoke is still rising from the dress in tiny puffs, so it's with a tentative hand that Caesar reaches out to touch the smouldering remains of what was once a wedding dress, and what is now unrecognisable.

"Feathers," says Caesar. "You're like a bird."

"A mockingjay, I think," She says, giving her sleeves which now resemble wings a small flap. "It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token."

"Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!" Caesar gestures for Cinna to rise. He does, and makes a small, gracious bow. He must know that his actions will have repercussions? Katniss's mockingjay pin isn't just a pin anymore. The Capitol may see it as a fashionable accessory, but to the people starving in the Districts it's become a symbol of hope. President Snow won't let something like that go overlooked.

I pull my attention away from Katniss and her smoking dress, and on to what I'm going to say in my interview. The audience, who's been stunned into silence, breaks into wild applause, the buzzer sounds, and it's with a pounding heart that I get to my feet. I don't look at Katniss as I pass her, what I'm about to say will have a bigger effect on her than me.

Of course Caesar and I have been a natural team after last years interviews. Our comic timing and ability to segue in to heart wrenching moments, like my confession of love for Katniss, has made us very popular with the audience. We open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that I'm preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that's on everyone's minds.

"So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you've been through, you found out about the Quell?" asks Caesar.

"I was in shock. I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next ..." I trail off.

"You realized there was never going to be a wedding?" asks Caesar gently.

I pause for a long moment. This is the time to tell them everything. Even if there truly is nothing to tell. I look at the audience, then down at the floor, and finally in to Caesars face.

"Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?" I ask.

An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. The whole world is watching, there is no one to keep secrets from.

"I feel quite certain of it," says Caesar.

"We're already married," I say quietly. My words have the desired effect, the audience reacts in astonishment.

"But ... how can that be?" asks Caesar.

"Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in the other districts. But there's this thing we do," I say and I briefly describes the toasting.

"Were your families there?" asks Caesar.

"No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss's mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn't be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it," I say. "And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us."

"So this was before the Quell?" says Caesar.

"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew," I say, and unmistakable notes of sadness are creeping in to my voice. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere—I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?"

"You couldn't, Peeta." Caesar puts an arm around my shoulders. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together.

The audience gives an enormous round of applause. I steal myself, ready to drop the biggest bombshell of the evening.

"I'm not glad," I say. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

This takes even Caesar aback. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," I say bitterly, my heart thumping so loudly I'm amazed that the microphones haven't picked it up. "if it weren't for the baby."

I've done it again. Just like last year. Only this time, instead of the Capitol audience being only too willing to accept and cry about the star crossed lovers from District 12, accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying are out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can't ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. Katniss is pregnant, and is being sent in to the arena to face imminent death. Is it any different really? For years innocent children have been murdered, and the Capitol supported it the entire time, but this time it's different.

The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help.

This has always been my fear, it's only now that I've really acknowledged it. Having been through it myself, I couldn't face any child of mine going through the same thing. I'd rather, and will die first.

Caesar can't rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. I nod my good-bye and come back to my seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar's lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can't hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. Tears glaze my face, as I stand up and automatically reach for Katniss's hand. I clasp on to her fingers tightly, never wanting to let her go, but knowing that in the end, I'll have to. I look to the screen and see the twenty four tributes all lined up. The Katniss reaches out and grasps on to the stump that now completes Chaff's arm.

And then it happens. Up and down the row, the victors begin to join hands. Some right away, like the morphlings, or Wiress and Beetee. Others unsure but caught up in the demands of those around them, like Brutus and Enobaria. By the time the anthem plays its final strains, all twenty-four of us stand in one unbroken line in what must be the first public show of unity among the districts since the Dark Days. You can see the realization of this as the screens begin to pop into blackness. It's too late, though. In the confusion they didn't cut us off in time. Everyone has seen.

There's disorder on the stage now, too, as the lights go out and we're left to stumble back into the Training Centre. I keep a tight hold on to Katniss's hand, and try my best to guide us back to the elevator. Finnick and Johanna try to join us, but a harried Peacekeeper blocks their way and we shoot upward alone.

The Games start tomorrow, my time left is fast ticking away and I don't want to spend remaining time with Katniss angry at me. So the second we get out of the elevator I grip her shoulders.

There isn't much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?" I ask in a quick urgent voice.

"Nothing," She says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

For some reason, images of my family fill my mind. How would they have reacted to the news they just heard? I see my mother sitting there tight lipped, my father his face solemn and serious. My brothers sitting open mouthed. I shake them away; I'm never going to see them again, so I don't need to worry about their reactions.

But there's something the Capitol can't change. We victors staged our own form of rebellion tonight, and even if every single one of us meets our end in the days to come, our sign of resistance won't go unnoticed.

We wait for the others to return, but when the elevator opens, only Haymitch appears. "It's madness out there. Everyone's been sent home and they've cancelled the recap of the interviews on television."

Katniss and I hurry to the window and try to make sense of the commotion far below us on the streets. "What are they saying?" I ask. "Are they asking the president to stop the Games?"

"I don't think they know themselves what to ask. The whole situation is unprecedented. Even the idea of opposing the Capitol's agenda is a source of confusion for the people here," says Haymitch. "But there's no way Snow would cancel the Games. You know that, right?"

I do. Of course, he could never back down now. The only option left to him is to strike back, and strike back hard.

"The others went home?" Katniss asks.

"They were ordered to. I don't know how much luck they're having getting through the mob," says Haymitch.

"Then we'll never see Effie again," I say, the reality dawning on me. "We didn't see her on the morning of the Games last year. You'll give her our thanks."

"More than that. Really make it special. It's Effie, after all," Katniss says. "Tell her how appreciative we are and how she was the best escort ever and tell her ... tell her we send our love."

For a while we just stand there in silence, delaying the inevitable. Then Haymitch says it. "I guess this is where we say our good-byes as well."

"Any last words of advice?" I ask.

"Stay alive," Haymitch says gruffly. That's almost an old joke with us now. He gives us each a quick embrace, and I can tell it's all he can stand. "Go to bed. You need your rest."

"You take care, Haymitch," I say.

We cross the room, but in the doorway, Haymitch's voice stops us. "Katniss, when you're in the arena," he begins. Then he pauses.

"What?" I ask defensively.

"You just remember who the enemy is," Haymitch tells me. "That's all. Now go on. Get out of here."

Had I heard Haymitch tell Katniss that a few months ago, I myself would have burned with questions, demanded they answered me. But I just accept it now. Some things are better left alone.

I want to go back in to my own room, to shower and wash all the make up off, and then meet Katniss in a few minutes. But she refuses, almost as if the doors might lock us both in, and we'll have to spend the night apart. She doesn't let go of my hand, and we both go in to her room.

I don't know if we sleep. We spend the night wrapped in each others arms, in some in-between land of part dream part reality. We don't talk, afraid of disturbing the other, hoping that we might be able to store up some precious minutes of rest.

Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know I will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. I give her a light kiss. "See you soon," I say.

"See you soon," She answers.

Just like last year, Portia accompanies me to the roof. It'll be her who helps me dress for the Games, her face will be the last one I see before I enter the arena.

The electric current freezes me in place on the ladder until the doctor injects the tracker into my left forearm. Now they will always be able to locate me in the arena. The hovercraft takes off, and I look out the windows until they black out. Portia presses me to eat, and I try to fill up as much as possible. I'll need my strength to keep Katniss alive.

We reach the launch rooms, and after I shower, Portia helps me dress over simple undergarments. This year's tribute outfit is a fitted blue jumpsuit, made of very sheer material, that zippers up the front. A six-inch-wide padded belt covered in shiny purple plastic. A pair of nylon shoes with rubber soles.

Silently Portia reaches inside her pocket, and pulls out the mockingjay necklace. I'd forgotten all about, but seeing it now reminds of my task. Katniss's survival is worth far more than mine. Portia puts the necklace around my neck, and tucks the pendant down the front of my jumpsuit and out of sight.

I take her trembling hands as they smooth out the creases at my shoulders, and look in to her kind pretty face. Her eyes are full of tears threatening to fall, and I pull her in to a close hug. I don't know how long we stand there, clinging to life.

Then a voice tells me that it's time for launch, and we break apart. Portia's no longer crying, her face is almost emotionless. She takes tight hold of my hand, as I walk towards the metal plate.

"Peeta, it is an honour to have known you. My life has been so much the better for it." She says softly, looking deep in to my eyes. She kisses my cheek, and I step on to the plate.

"Goodbye," I whisper softly as the glass cylinder slides down around me.

She nods slowly, as the plate begins to rise and she's obscured by view.

Just like last year, I'm rising through the earth for about two minutes before the glass starts to retreat. .I squint down at my feet and see that my metal plate is surrounded by blue waves that lap up over my boots. Slowly I raise my eyes and take in the water spreading out in every direction.

Cold dread trickles through me, as the realisation dawns on me.

Because how am I supposed to protect Katniss if the arena is made up of water, and I can't even swim?


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello :) I'm very sorry but updates might be a tad slow over the next few weeks, as I have a piano exam which I am highly unprepared for imminently approaching. Once again thanks for reading, and please review! :)  
**

Chapter 18

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, hammers my ears.

'Don't panic,' I think to myself desperately, 'just don't panic.' But it's no use, my heart is hammering, my breathing shallow, and a feeling of hopelessness is starting to rush through me.

My time is starting to run out, in a matter of seconds the gong will sound and the tributes will be able to move. But move where? Blue water. Pink sky. White-hot sun beating down. All right, there's the Cornucopia, the shining gold metal horn, about forty yards away. At first, it appears to be sitting on a circular island. But on closer examination, I see the thin strips of land radiating from the circle like the spokes on a wheel. I think there are ten to twelve, and they seem equidistant from one another. Between the spokes, all is water. Water and a pair of tributes. Cecilia and one of the morphlings, are either side of me, both of whom look utterly bewildered.

I desperately scan around, trying to get a glimpse of Katniss. But she's blocked from view by the Cornucopia. The gong sounds, and I peer over the edge of the metal plate. Maybe I could try and float my way to shore? But it's no use, I can see that the water is deep, and I'd never be able to make it to the sand. Finnick Odair reaches the Cornucopia first. Well coming from District 4 that was kind of inevitable, he seizes a trident, and net, before darting around to the other side of the golden horn. I can feel myself on the verge of tears, and then I see her. I never knew that she could swim. Dripping wet, she runs towards the mouth of the horn and grabs a golden bow. Just as Finnick appears behind her.

I feel sick. It's like something from out of my nightmares. I want to look away because I know that I can't watch what is about to happen, but somehow I can't tare my eyes from the scene.

Katniss must sense that someone is behind her, as she pulls an arrow out of the pile, and directs it straight at Finnick. They stand for a few moments, their mouths are moving but I can't make out what they're saying.

The man from District 5 is on the sand now and homing in on the Cornucopia. Finnick shouts something, and Katniss ducks. The trident hits its mark, and the man from District 5 falls to the ground. Finnick frees the trident from the mans chest, and turns back to face Katniss.

Clearly Finnick said something to Katniss to convince her to trust him, clearly we are now allies with District 4. I feel uneasy, useless even stuck here on my plate, while Katniss is out there in danger. I also get the feeling that the Gamemakers won't want a tribute to be stuck on his plate for a long period of time. I'm getting increasingly worried that both Katniss might get hurt, and that there might be some kind of hideous Gamemaker intervention to get me off my podium.

Finnick and Katniss separate, each taking one side of the Cornucopia. After several minutes of fighting, Katniss slings several more weapons on herself, as she and Finnick meet back up. She turns, and spots me still stranded on my metal plate. She takes off in my direction, getting as close as she can to the water before removing the knives from her belt. Clearly she's going to swim out to try and get me, but I must be at least double her weight.

Finnick lays a hand on her shoulder, and says something. She looks up at him, and Finnick drops his weapons to the ground. I see his lips moving, and he reaches down to pat her abdomen.

Of course, she's meant to be pregnant. Finnick disappears in to the water with a flawless dive, whilst Katniss raises her bow, to ward off any potential attackers.

Finnick reaches my metal plate in no time at all. He reaches a hand out of the water, and shows me a golden bangle on his wrist. The very same bangle Haymitch was wearing back in the Capitol. The message couldn't be any clearer. Trust Finnick.

"Hello Peeta," Finnick says simply, "Fancy a swim?"

I roll my eyes at him, "Are you here to help or not?" I wan to get back to Katniss, to get far away from the Cornucopia before anything else happens.

Finnick bobs up and down in the water, opening his arms. "Of course Peeta, come on down." He says with a smile.

I climb down in to the water, and Finnick puts one arm around my chest, while the other propels us through the water. It's a humiliating experience having to be rescued by Finnick Odair, but I know that now is not the time to be battling with my ego.

We reach Katniss on the sand, and she helps pull me up.

"Hello, again," I say, and I give her a kiss. "We've got allies."

"Yes. Just as Haymitch intended," She answers.

"Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?" I ask.

"Only Mags, I think," She says. She nods toward the old woman doggedly making her way toward us.

"Well, I can't leave Mags behind," says Finnick. "She's one of the few people who actually likes me."

"I've got no problem with Mags," Katniss says. "Especially now that I see the arena. Het fishhooks are probably our best chance of getting a meal."

"Katniss wanted her on the first day," I add.

"Katniss has remarkably good judgment," says Finnick. With one hand he reaches into the water and scoops out Mags like she weighs no more than a puppy. She makes some remark, but I'm finding very difficult to understand her, then pats her belt.

"Look, she's right. Someone figured it out." Finnick points to Beetee. He's flailing around in the waves but managing to keep his head above water.

"What?" Katniss says.

"The belts. They're flotation devices," says Finnick. "I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they'll keep you from drowning."

Why couldn't I have figured that out? I would have been able to get to the Cornucopia much quicker, and I wouldn't have had to be rescued by Finnick Odair.

Katniss suggests that we move on, and I agree with her. I have no desire to participate in the bloodbath. She hands me a bow, a sheath of arrows, and a knife. But Mags tugs on Katniss's sleeve and babbles on until she's given an awl to her. Pleased, she clamps the handle between her gums and reaches her arms up to Finnick. He tosses his net over his shoulder, hoists Mags on top of it, grips his tridents in his free hand, and we run away from the Cornucopia.

We enter a thick jungle, like nothing I've ever seen before. The earth is very black and spongy underfoot, often obscured by tangles of vines with colourful blossoms. While the sun's hot and bright, the air's warm and heavy with moisture. I take the lead anyway, even though I'm feeling distinctly uneasy. I've already had to be rescued once today, I'm keen to prove myself. I cut through the thick foliage with my knife, clearing a path for us on the steep incline. Finnick goes second, and Katniss brings up the rear.

It doesn't take long, between the steep incline and the heat, to become short of breath. Katniss and I have been training intensely, though, and Finnick's in such good shape that even with Mags over his shoulder, we climb rapidly for about a mile before he requests a rest. And then I think it's more for Mags's sake than his own.

The Cornucopia is no longer within view, so Katniss scales a tree to see what's going on. It always amazed me the way she could climb trees. Even the ones like this, that have few branches, she climbs with ease.

The three of us wait on the jungle floor, for her to come down. When she does her expression is hard, and tense. I can't help but notice how Finnick has casually raised his trident, almost like he's poised for a potential attack.

"What's going on down there, Katniss? Have they all joined hands? Taken a vow of nonviolence? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol?" Finnick asks.

"No," She says.

"No," Finnick repeats. "Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance." He looks at me for a moment. "Except maybe Peeta."

The two stand there for a moment, and I ignore Finnicks slight on me. Somehow I know it wasn't meant in a bad way. At the moment Katniss is eyeing Finnick, almost like she's deliberating over whether or not to shoot him.

I step deliberately between them. Something tells me that killing Finnick now is not a good idea. If Haymitch deemed him trustworthy then that's good enough for me.

"So how many are dead?" I ask.

"Hard to say," She answers. "At least six, I think. And they're still fighting."

"Let's keep moving. We need water," I say.

So far there's been no sign of a freshwater stream or pond, and the saltwater's undrinkable.

"Better find some soon," says Finnick. "We need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight."

The moment passes, and the tension decreases somewhat.

After about another mile, I can see an end to the tree line and assume we're reaching the crest of the hill.

"Maybe we'll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something." Katniss says hopefully.

We keep on moving, me taking the lead slashing through the vines with my knife. Then a sharp zapping sound, and I lose all control of my body as I'm thrown backwards through the air. My eyes close, and I'm enveloped in to a deep blackness.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I think that I give a slight cough. I'm disorientated, and confused. I slowly become aware that I'm lying on the ground, and I remember hitting the force field. I feel weak though, very weak.

I can hear the soft if slightly ragged breathing of someone above me. Light hands stroke my forehead, gently brushing away strands of hair.

"Peeta?" A voice whispers softly. I'd recognise that voice anywhere.

My eyes flicker open at the sound of it, and my eyes meet hers. Her beautiful grey eyes are bloodshot, her face glazed with tears.

"Careful," I say weakly. "There's a force field up ahead."

Katniss laughs, but tears are still streaming down her face.

"Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Centre roof," I say. "I'm all right, though. Just a little shaken."

"You were dead! Your heart stopped!" She bursts out, before becoming completely wracked with choking, shaking sobs. I feel shocked, from the sound of it I'd been on the brink of death. If I'd died who would have protected Katniss, to make sure that she made it out alive.

"Well, it seems to be working now," I say. "It's all right, Katniss." She nods, but the crying doesn't stop.

"Katniss?" I say worriedly, she seems to be almost hysterical.

"It's okay. It's just her hormones," says Finnick. "From the baby." I look over and see him, sitting back on his knees but still panting a bit from the climb and the heat and the effort of bringing me back from the dead.

Well Katniss and I both know that there's no baby, and that there never will be.

"No. It's not—" She gets out, before she's cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing, which only really confirms what Finnick said about the none existent pregnancy.

Finnicks expression is strange, almost quizzical. He glances between Katniss and me, as if trying to figure something out, then gives his head a slight shake as if to clear it. "How are you?" he asks me. "Do you think you can move on?"

"No, he has to rest," Katniss insists. Mags rips off a handful of moss from a nearby tree, and Katniss blows her nose, and wipes the tears from her face with it. To be honest I'm alarmed by her reaction, she looks absolutely distraught.

She looks over at me, and notices the gleam of gold on my chest. She reaches out and takes the golden disk in her hand.

"Is this your token?" She asks, having calmed down a bit.

"Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match," I say.

"No, of course I don't mind." She says, but I sense that her smile is somewhat forced.

"So you want to make camp here, then?" Finnick asks.

"I don't think that's an option," I answer. "Staying here. With no water. No protection. I feel all right, really. If we could just go slowly." Right now all I feel like doing, is turning over and going straight to sleep. But night will fall in a few hours, and then we'll be at the mercy of the Careers.

"Slowly would be better than not at all." Finnick says, helping me to my feet. I instantly start to feel dizzy, and tiny lights pop in front of my eyes. After a few seconds though, the feeling passes, and I'm left feeling shaky and tired.

"I'll take the lead," Katniss announces after having checked over her weapons.

I start to object, but Finnick cuts me off. "No, let her do it." He frowns at her. "You knew that force field was there, didn't you? Right at the last second? You started to give a warning." She nods. "How did you know?"

I remember her telling me something back in training about how Beetee and Wiress from District 3 could see the force field. But revealing that she knows this information may mean that the Gamemakers have time to alter it, meaning that we'll all be in even more danger than we are already. Katniss though, clearly has the same train of thought as me.

"I don't know. It's almost as if I could hear it. Listen." She says. We all become still. There's the sound of insects, birds, the breeze in the foliage.

"I don't hear anything," I say, playing along.

"Yes," She insists, "it's like when the fence around District Twelve is on, only much, much quieter." Everyone listens again intently "There!" She says. "Can't you hear it? It's coming from right where Peeta got shocked."

"I don't hear it, either," says Finnick. "But if you do, by all means, take the lead."

"That's weird," she says. She turns her head from side to side as if puzzled. "I can only hear it out of my left ear."

"The one the doctors reconstructed?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says, then gives a shrug. "Maybe they did a better job than they thought. You know, sometimes I do hear funny things on that side. Things you wouldn't ordinarily think have a sound. Like insect wings. Or snow hitting the ground."

"You," says Mags, pushing Katniss forward, and so she takes the lead. Since we're to be moving slowly, Mags prefers to walk with the aid of a branch Finnick quickly fashions into a cane for her. He makes one for me too, which is helpful as all I really want to do is lie down and sleep, but I know that we must press on. Finnick brings up the rear, so at least someone alert has our backs.

My breathing becomes dangerously shallow as the day wares on. I barely take any notice of what's going on around me, and I know that if the tributes from District 1 and 2 came crashing through the trees now, I wouldn't have it in me to run. Katniss keeps the lead, and at some point cuts down a bunch of nuts from a nearby tree. She throws them in front of her, just to make sure that she doesn't miss the force field.

Mags in front of me, strips a tree of the same nuts, and starts to eat them. Katniss turns around at the sound of the crunching noise.

"Mags!" She cries. "Spit that out. It could be poisonous."

She mumbles something and ignores her, licking her lips with apparent relish. She look to Finnick for help but he just laughs. "I guess we'll find out," he says.

So we carry on trudging through the humid jungle, and as time passes I know that I can't keep going for much longer. Katniss turns around and see's Mags's limping form, and the sheen of sweat covering my face. All four of us are panting with thirst.

"Let's take a break," She says. "I need to get another look from above."

Relieved, I lean against a tree, while Katniss scales another. She's down again in a matter of minutes.

"There's the Cornucopia, the sea, and then the jungle all around. Very exact. Very symmetrical. And not very large," She says, landing with a slight thump on the jungle floor.

"Did you see any water?" asks Finnick.

"Only the saltwater where we started the Games," she says.

"There must be some other source," I say frowning. My own thirst is starting to intensify, my throat dry, and head pounding. "Or we'll all be dead in a matter of days."

"Well, the foliage is thick. Maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere," She says, somewhat doubtfully. "At any rate, there's no point in trying to find out what's over the edge of this hill, because the answer is nothing."

"There must be drinkable water between the force field and the wheel," I insist. We all know what this means though. Going back towards the bloodshed, with Mags hardly able to walk, and me far too weak to even try and fight.

We decide to move down the slope a few hundred yards and continue circling. See if maybe there's some water at that level. Katniss stays in front, but with the sun heavily beating down on us by mid afternoon, neither me nor Mags can carry on.

Finnick chooses a campsite about ten yards below the force field, saying we can use it as a weapon by deflecting our enemies into it if attacked. Then he and Mags pull blades of the sharp grass that grows in five-foot-high tufts and begin to weave them together into mats. Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts I collect bunches of them, and fry them by tossing them in to the force field.

Katniss stands guard, fidgety and flustered. Finally she breaks the silence.

"Finnick, why don't you stand guard and I'll hunt around some more for water," She says. Obviously I am not thrilled with the thought of her going off on her own, but we all need water badly.

"Don't worry, I won't go far," She promises me, not putting a halt to my sense of unease.

"I'll go, too," I say.

"No, I'm going to do some hunting if I can," She says, implying the obvious. That I'm too loud and will scare off any game.

"I won't be long." She reassures, and sets off in to the jungle.

While she's gone Mags and Finnick transform the place. They create a hut of sorts out of the grass mats, open on one side but with three walls, a floor, and a roof. Mags plaits some more grass bowls which I fill with nuts. It would be perfect, if only we weren't all so thirsty.

When she comes back, we all look up at her hopefully.

"No. No water. It's out there, though. He knew where it was," She says, hoisting a skinned rodent up for all to see. "He'd been drinking recently when I shot him out of a tree, but I couldn't find his source. I swear, I covered every inch of ground in a thirty-yard radius."

"Can we eat him?" I ask.

"I don't know for sure. But his meat doesn't look that different from a squirrel's. He ought to be cooked... ." She hesitates, obviously there's no chance of hiding the smoke caused by a fire in this arena.

An idea hits me though. I take a cube of rodent meat, skewer it on the tip of a pointed stick, and let it fall into the force field. There's a sharp sizzle and the stick flies back. The chunk of meat is blackened on the outside but well cooked inside. They give me a round of applause, but quickly stop when they realise where we are. I have to say it's nice to actually be useful. So far today I've been rescued from the water by Finnick, blundered in to a force field, and was rescued again by Finnick, and I've failed to find us any food or water.

As the sun sinks we all gather in the hut. The nuts have a mild, slightly sweet flavour that reminds me of a chestnut, and the rodent's strong and gamey but surprisingly juicy. If only we had some water to take the thirst away.

Finnick asks Katniss a lot of questions about the rodent, but my mind is focused elsewhere. In a few hours, it will be dark, and then Districts 1 and 2 will scouring the arena hunting us. I know this only too well from allying myself with Cato and the others last year. Then I was a reluctant hunter, spurred on by the thought of keeping Katniss safe. Now I've become the hunted, the same thought still in my head though.

The moon rises, and we gather at the mouth of the hut, because we know what's coming. I slip my hand in to Katniss's.

The sky brightens with seal of Panem, and then the faces appear. The man from District 5, the one Finnick took out with his trident, is the first to appear. That means that all the tributes in 1 through 4 are alive — the four Careers, Beetee and Wiress, and, of course, Mags and Finnick. The man from District 5 is followed by the male morphling from 6, Cecelia and Woof from 8, both from 9, the woman from 10, and Seeder from 11. The Capitol seal is back with a final bit of music and then the sky goes dark except for the moon.

My mouth has gone dry, and I know that it's only partly to do with my thirst. I know I didn't know any of them particularly well, but all I can think of is the three children, who clung to Cecilia has they took her away. All of those Victors had lives, lives that have now, so brutally been snatched from them.

We sit in silence, no one feels like talking. I don't know how long we might have sat here if it weren't for the arrival of the silver parachute, which glides down through the foliage to land before us. No one reaches for it.

"Whose is it, do you think?" Katniss says finally.

"No telling," says Finnick. "Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?"

I untie the chord and flatten out the silk. On the parachute sits a small metal object that I can't place. "What is it?" I ask. No one knows. We pass it from hand to hand, taking turns examining it. It's a hollow metal tube, tapered slightly at one end. On the other end a small lip curves downward. I blow in one end to see if it makes a sound, but it doesn't. Finnick slides his little finger in to it, testing it as a weapon. Useless.

"Can you fish with it, Mags?" Katniss asks. Mags shakes her head and grunts.

Katniss takes it and rolls it back and forth on her palm. She holds it up to the moonlight before jamming one end in the dirt in frustration.

"I give up. Maybe if we hook up with Beetee or Wiress they can figure it out." She says shortly.

She stretches out on the grass mat, and I rub the tense spot between her shoulder, hoping to make her slightly more relaxed. After a few minutes however, she sits bolt upright.

"A spile!" She exclaims.

"What?" Says Finnick.

Katniss wrestles the thing from the ground, and examines it closely.

"It's a spile. Sort of like a faucet. You put it in a tree and sap comes out." She says, looking at the trees around us, "Well, the right sort of tree."

"Sap?" asks Finnick. They

"To make syrup," I say. "But there must be something else inside these trees."

We're all on our feet at once. The lack of springs. The tree rat's sharp front teeth and wet muzzle. There can only be one thing worth having inside these trees.

Finnick goes to hammer the spile into the green bark of a massive tree with a rock, but Katniss stops him. "Wait. You might damage it. We need to drill a hole first," She says.

Mags offers up her awl, and I drive it two inches deep in to the bark of the tree. Between me and Finnick, we open up the whole with the spike and some knives, until it's wide enough to hold the spile. Katniss wedges it in we all stand back in anticipation.

At first nothing happens. Then a drop of water rolls down the lip and lands in Mags's palm. She licks it off and holds out her hand for more.

By wiggling and adjusting the spile, we get a thin stream running out. We take turns holding our mouths under the tap, wetting our parched tongues. Mags brings over a basket, and the grass is so tightly woven it holds water. We fill the basket and pass it around, taking deep gulps and, later, luxuriously, splashing our faces clean.

Without the raging thirst to distract us we become aware of just how exhausted we are. Finnick agrees to take first watch, and I don't argue. I lay down in the hut, and after Katniss joins me I'm asleep in an instant.

Hours later I'm awoken by the sound of Katniss shouting. She sounds distressed, my eyes snap open and I jump to my feet. Just in time to see a wall of white fog making it's way towards us.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Run!" She screams, "Run!"

Finnick snaps awake, tosses Mags over his shoulder and runs. I however am still bewildered as to what is going on. Katniss grabs my arm, and starts to propel me through the jungle.

"What is it? What is it?" I ask.

"Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas. Hurry, Peeta!" She shouts.

It's no use though. Hitting the force field has really taken its toll on me, and I'm slow. Much slower than usual, every single vine I come across trips me up. Terror surges through me, but Katniss doesn't leave my side. She keeps firm hold of me, desperately trying to pull me along. She locks her fingers tightly in to mine,

"Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step." She says.

I do, and it seems to help slightly, we move faster, but the mist still laps at our heels.

Droplets spring free of the body of vapor. They burn, but not like fire. Less a sense of heat and more of intense pain as the chemicals find our flesh, cling to it, and burrow down through the layers of skin. Our jumpsuits are no help at all. We may as well be dressed in tissue paper, for all the protection they give.

Finnick shouts encouragement from in front. He bounded off immediately at first sight of the fog, and as its something you can only evade not fight, his voice acts as a guide to us.

Then something terrifies me even more. The mist reaches my face, and I can feel left side of it starting to sag. The eyelid droops, almost concealing the eye itself, and my mouth twists towards the ground.

Alarmed by this, I forget to look forward at Katniss's feet, and my artificial leg gets caught in a knot of creepers as I stumble forward. Katniss hauls me up, getting a proper look at my face.

She gasps, "Peeta—" but then another look of horror comes over her face. Whatever chemical laces the fog does more than burn — it targets our nerves. She yanks me forward causing me to stumble again, and by the time I've got to my feet the body of mist is only feet away.

Katniss's arms are twitching, and my own legs feel wooden, like they're not even attached to my body. I try to say something, to tell her to leave me and save herself, but somehow my throat doesn't seem to be working.

Finnick comes back, and helps Katniss to haul me along. But after a minute he stops.

"It's no good. I'll have to carry him. Can you take Mags?" He asks Katniss.

"Yes," I hear her say, and Finnick slings me over his back. I'm vaguely aware of Mags climbing on to Katniss's back, but senses are starting to leave me. Finnick hands me his one remaining trident, and I cling on to it, as he propels us both through the jungle. After a while his I become conscious that his arms are starting to twitch too.

"It's no use," I hear Katniss say. "Can you take them both? Go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"No," he says. "I can't carry them both. My arms aren't working. I'm sorry, Mags. I can't do it."

I look up, just as Mags hauls herself up, plants a kiss on Finnick's lips, and then hobbles straight into the fog. Immediately, her body is seized by wild contortions and she falls to the ground in a horrible dance.

Finnick turns and starts to run again, just as the canon signalling Mags's death sounds. I feel a huge surge of guilt. Mags is dead because of me.

After another few minutes, Finnick collapses on the ground, unable to carry on. Katniss lands on top of the heap. 'We're going to die, right here, right now,' I think. My vow to keep Katniss alive has been unfulfilled.

Katniss makes an awful croaking sound, "It's stopped," she says finally. Both Finnick and I turn our heads towards the fog. It begins to rise upward now, as if being slowly vacuumed into the sky. We watch until it has all been sucked away and not the slightest wisp remains.

I roll of Finnick and on to my back, we lie there gasping, twitching, our minds and bodies invaded by the poison. I look up in the trees and see something sitting up there, I think that they're monkeys. I gesture vaguely upwards.

"Mon-hees." I say through swollen lips, and a cracked throat.

I think these have orange fur, although it's hard to tell, and are about half the size of a full-grown human. I take the monkeys for a good sign. Surely they would not hang around if the air was deadly. For a while, we quietly observe one another, humans and monkeys. The I struggle to my knee's, and slowly we all crawl until the vines turn to a narrow strip of sandy beach and the warm water that surrounds the Cornucopia laps our faces. I jerk back as if I've touched an open flame.

The salt in the water makes the pain of my wounds so blinding I nearly black out. But there's another sensation, of drawing out. I experiment by gingerly placing only my hand in the water. Torturous, yes, but then less so. And through the blue layer of water, I see a milky substance leaching out of the wounds on my skin. As the whiteness diminishes, so does the pain. I unbuckle my belt and strip off my jumpsuit, which is little more than a perforated rag. My shoes and undergarments are inexplicably unaffected. Little by little, one small portion of a limb at a time, I soak the poison out of my wounds. Katniss seems to be doing the same, but Finnick backed away from the water at first touch and lies facedown on the sand, either unwilling or unable to purge himself.

Katniss seems to recover faster than me, and so she's goes over to help Finnick. Meanwhile I duck my head in to the water, opening my eyes, and sniffing the water in to my sinuses. It's agony, but by the time I'm finished I'm functional enough to help Katniss with Finnick. I cut away the remains of Finnick's damaged jumpsuit, and I find two shells at the waters edge. Between us we pour water on his wounds, treating his arms first as they are the most badly damaged, and even though a lot of white stuff pours out of them, he doesn't notice. He just lies there, eyes shut, giving an occasional moan.

I look around with growing awareness of how dangerous a position we're in. It's night, yes, but this moon gives off too much light for concealment. We're lucky no one's attacked us yet. We could see them coming from the Cornucopia, but if all four Careers attacked, they'd overpower us. If they didn't spot us at first, Finnick's moans would give us away soon.

"We've got to get more of him into the water," Katniss whispers. Obviously we can't put him in face first, so I nod to his feet. We each take one, pull him one hundred and eighty degrees around, and start to drag him into the saltwater. Just a few inches at a time. His ankles. Wait a few minutes. Up to his midcalf. Wait. His knees. Clouds of white swirl out from his flesh and he groans. We continue to detoxify him, bit by bit. Slowly I feel my face returning to normal, my eyelid opening, and my grimace becoming less pronounced.

Finnick slowly begins to revive. His eyes open, focus on us, and register awareness that he's being helped. Katniss rests his head on her lap and we let him soak about ten minutes with everything immersed from the neck down. Katniss and I exchange a smile as Finnick lifts his arms above the seawater.

"There's just your head left, Finnick. That's the worst part, but you'll feel much better after, if you can bear it," I say. We help him to sit up and let him grip our hands as he purges his eyes and nose and mouth. His throat is still too raw to speak.

I'm going to try to tap a tree," Katniss says. Her fingers fumble at her belt and find the spile still hanging from its vine.

"Let me make the hole first," I say. "You stay with him. You're the healer." I remember last year in the arena, where she did everything she possibly could to keep me from dying. I sling a sheath of arrows over my shoulder, and slide my knife in to my belt.

I find a good tree about ten yards away from the beach, and I work on it with my knife. Mags must have taken the awl in to the fog with her. Mags who died because of me, who walked straight in to the fog without questioning it. I feel a pang of guilt, and I give the knife a hard twist. After a few minutes I hear someone calling my name.

"Peeta," Katniss calls in a slightly quavering voice. "I need your help with something."

"Okay, just a minute. I think I've just about got it," I say, giving the knife on final jab before pulling it out of the trunk. "Yes, there. Have you got the spile?"

"I do. But we've found something you'd better take a look at," She continues in a measured voice. "Only move toward us quietly, so you don't startle it."

Her words are so odd, that I'm alerted that there must be something wrong.

"Okay," I say turning towards them. I walk back towards them, trying as hard as I can to be quiet, but that was never my strong suit. I'm five yards from the beach, when I sense them. My eyes flicker to the side for a second, seeing a mass of orange fur. The monkeys explode in a shrieking mass of orange fur, sharp fangs, covering me in seconds.

"Mutts!" I hear Katniss shout, and I hear her and Finnick making their way towards me. I slash at the creatures with my knife, and I hear the thuds as Katniss's arrows find their marks. Katniss and Finnick and I position ourselves in a triangle, a few yards apart, our backs to one another.

"Peeta!" Katniss shouts. "Your arrows!"

I turn to see her firing her last arrow, and I slide the sheath off my shoulder. That's when a monkey lunges out of nowhere for my chest. Finnick's weapon is busy, Katniss has no arrows, and my knife arm is in the middle of removing the sheath. Katniss throws her own knife at the animal, but it somersaults and misses it. She runs at me, as if to try and shield me.

That's when she appears. materializing, it seems, from thin air. One moment nowhere, the next reeling in front of me. Already bloody, mouth open in a high-pitched scream, pupils enlarged so her eyes seem like black holes.

The insane morphling from District 6 throws up her skeletal arms as if to embrace the monkey, and it sinks its fangs into her chest.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

I feel numb. I become frenzied, stabbing the knife in to the monkeys back over and over again, until it releases its jaw. I never wanted to anyone to die, and now inexplicably this woman has sacrificed herself to save me from the jaws of death. Just like Mags she died because of me. Well no, she died because of the Capitol. The thought of what the people in the Capitol will be doing right now sends fury burning through me. They're betting probably, laughing at those who didn't make it through the bloodbath. Avidly watching the star crossed lovers from District 12.

I kick the mutt aside, bracing myself for more.

"Come on, then! Come on!" I shout, releasing a fraction of my anger.

But something has happened to the monkeys. They are withdrawing, backing up trees, fading into the jungle, as if some unheard voice calls them away. A Gamemaker's voice, telling them this is enough.

"Get her," Katniss says to me. "We'll cover you."

I gently pick the morphling up, her wide eyes darting to and fro with panic. I carry her the last few yards to the beach, and lay her down in the sand. Katniss cuts away the material at her chest revealing the four deep puncture wounds. Blood slowly trickles from them, making them look far less deadly than they are. The real damage is inside. By the position of the openings, I feel certain the beast ruptured something vital, a lung, maybe even her heart.

She lies on the sand, gasping like a fish out of water. Sagging skin, sickly green, her ribs as prominent as a child's dead of starvation. Surely she could afford food, but turned to the morphling just as Haymitch turned to drink, I guess. Everything about her speaks of waste—her body, her life, the vacant look in her eyes.

"I'll watch the trees," Finnick says before walking away. Katniss has taken one of the woman's hands, and so I crouch on the other side of her stroking her hair. I try to remember all that I knew of her, how she loved to paint. All I ever saw of her during training was her painting swirling pink flowers with the dye.

"With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby's skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water." I say softly.

She stares in to my eyes, hanging on my every word. It's then that I notice what a startlingly deep shade of brown her eyes are. She may once have been beautiful, but a lifetime of nightmares and drugs have taken that away from her.

"One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of colour. One by one," I say.

The morphling's breathing is slowing into shallow catch-breaths. Her free hand dabbles in the blood on her chest, making the tiny swirling motions she so loved to paint with.

"I haven't figured out a rainbow yet. They come so quickly and leave so soon. I never have enough time to capture them. Just a bit of blue here or purple there. And then they fade away again. Back into the air," I say.

My words have had the desired effect. Entranced, she reaches up and paints something on my cheek.

"Thank you," he whispers. "That looks beautiful."

For a moment, the morphling's face lights up in a grin and she makes a small squeaking sound. Then her blood-dappled hand falls back onto her chest, she gives one last huff of air, and the cannon fires.

I lift her up again, and carry her to the water. The morphling floats out toward the Cornucopia for a while, then the hovercraft appears and a four-pronged claw drops, encases her, carries her into the night sky, and she's gone.

Finnick rejoins us, his fist full of Katniss's arrows still wet with monkey blood. He drops them beside her on the sand. "Thought you might want these."

"Thanks," She says, and she goes to the water to wash off the gore. Finnick and I turn to face the jungle, the floor still littered with monkey carcasses. And then, the vines shift, and there is not a trace of orange fur in sight. Katniss returns a minute later.

"Where did they go?" She asks.

"We don't know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone," says Finnick.

We stare at the jungle, numb and exhausted. In the quiet, I notice that the spots where the fog droplets touched my skin have scabbed over. They've stopped hurting and begun to itch. Intensely. I scratch the damaged skin on my face, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort.

"Don't scratch," Katniss says, "You'll only bring infection. Think it's safe to try for the water again?"

We make our way back to the tree that I'd been tapping. Katniss and Finnick stand guard while I work the spile it, but no threat appears. I've found a good vein and the water begins to gush from the spile. We slake our thirst, let the warm water pour over our itching bodies. We fill a handful of shells with drinking water and go back to the beach. The sky is still dark, but dawn can't be far away.

"Why don't you two get some rest?" Katniss says. "I'll watch for a while."

"No, Katniss, I'd rather," says Finnick. I glance over at him, at his face, and realize he's barely holding back tears. Mags. The least we can do is give him the privacy to mourn her.

"All right, Finnick, thanks," She says, and we lie down in the sand together.

I fall asleep almost instantly, pulled down in to a land of unconsciousness.

Seconds later, or so it seems to me, someone gives my shoulder a slight shake.

"Peeta. Peeta, wake up," she whispers, and my eyelids flutter open, only for me to jump back in horror.

"Aah!" I yell, recoiling backwards. Katniss and Finnick had pressed there faces inches away from mine, their skin tinged a hideous grey-green colour. The two of them fall back in the sand laughing their heads off, whilst I glare at them disdainfully. Then a parachute lands next to us, containing a loaf of bread.

Finnick turns the bread over in his hands, examining the crust. A bit too possessively. It's not necessary. It's got that green tint from seaweed that the bread from District 4 always has. We all know it's his. Maybe he's just realized how precious it is, and that he may never see another loaf again. Maybe some memory of Mags is associated with the crust. But all he says is, "This will go well with the shellfish."

My skin still itches intensely, but Katniss helps me slather it in some ointment that Haymitch sent whilst I was asleep. The itching subsides immediately, and Finnick deftly cleans the meat from some shellfish that he caught. We gather round and eat the delicious sweet flesh with the salty bread from District 4.

We all look monstrous—the ointment seems to be causing some of the scabs to peel — but I'm glad for the medicine. Not just because it gives relief from the itching, but also because it acts as protection from that blazing white sun in the pink sky. By its position, I estimate it must be going on ten o'clock, that we've been in the arena for about a day. Eleven of us are dead. Thirteen alive. Somewhere in the jungle, ten are concealed. Three or four are the Careers. I don't really feel like trying to remember who the others are.

I have no desire whatsoever to return in to the confines of the jungle, its trees seem to offer danger instead of protection. I'd much prefer to stick to the shore of our little beach, and since the others don't say anything on the subject, I don't either. For a while the jungle seems almost static, humming, shimmering, but not flaunting its dangers. Then, in the distance, comes screaming. Across from us, a wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate. An enormous wave crests high on the hill, topping the trees and roaring down the slope. It hits the existing seawater with such force that, even though we're as far as we can get from it, the surf bubbles up around our knees, setting our few possessions afloat. Among the three of us, we manage to collect everything before it's carried off, except for our chemical-riddled jumpsuits, which are so eaten away no one cares if we lose them.

A cannon fires. We see the hovercraft appear over the area where the wave began and pluck a body from the trees. Twelve, I think.

The circle of water slowly calms down, having absorbed the giant wave. Then Katniss speaks.

"There," she says softly. Finnick and I follow her gaze, and as if by previous agreement, we all fade back into the shadows of the jungle.

The trio's in bad shape—you can see that right off. One is being practically dragged out by a second, and the third wanders in loopy circles, as if deranged. They're a solid brick-red colour, as if they've been dipped in paint and left out to dry.

"Who is that?" I ask. "Or what? Muttations?"

Katniss doesn't say anything, but draws back an arrow, ready for attack. But all that happens is that the one who was being dragged collapses on the beach. The dragger stamps the ground in frustration and, in an apparent fit of temper, turns and shoves the circling, deranged one over.

Finnick's face lights up. "Johanna!" he calls, and runs for the red things.

"Finnick!" I hear Johanna's voice reply.

I exchange a look with Katniss. "What now?" she asks.

"We can't really leave Finnick," I say.

"Guess not. Come on, then," she says grudgingly.

The two of us tromp down the beach to where Finnick and Johanna are just meeting up. As we move in closer, I see her companions, but I don't immediately recognise either of them.

"She's got Wiress and Beetee." Says Katniss confusedly.

"Nuts and Volts?" I say, equally puzzled, if there was ever a more unlikely alliance it was these three. "I've got to hear how this happened."

When we reach them, Johanna's gesturing toward the jungle and talking very fast to Finnick. "We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn't see, you couldn't speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That's when Blight hit the force field."

"I'm sorry, Johanna," says Finnick. It takes a moment to place Blight. I think he was Johanna's male counterpart from District 7, but I hardly remember seeing him. Come to think of it, I don't even think he showed up for training.

"Yeah, well, he wasn't much, but he was from home," she says. "And he left me alone with these two." She nudges Beetee, who's barely conscious, with her shoe. "He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—"

We all look over at Wiress, who's circling around, coated in dried blood, and murmuring, "Tick, tock. Tick, tock."

"Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock,"says Johanna. This seems to draw Wiress in her direction and she careens into Johanna, who harshly shoves her to the beach. "Just stay down, will you?"

"Lay off her," Katniss snaps.

Johanna narrows her eyes in anger, "Lay off her," she hisses. Then she steps forward and slaps Katniss hard across the face. "Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—" Finnick tosses her writhing body over his shoulder and carries her out into the water and repeatedly dunks her while she screams a lot of really insulting things at Katniss.

"What did she mean? She got them for me?" Katniss asks me.

"I don't know. You did want them originally," I remind her.

"Yeah, I did. Originally." She says, "But I won't have them long unless we do something."

So I lift Beetee up in my arms, whilst Katniss takes Wiress by the hand, and we go back to our little beach camp. We sit Wiress in the shallows, so that she can get cleaned up, but she just clutches her hands together and occasionally mumbles, "Tick, tock."

Katniss unhooks Beetee's jumpsuit, and finds a heavy metal cylinder attached to the side with vines, which she tosses up on the sand. His clothes are glued to him with blood, so I hold him in the water whilst Katniss loosens them. It takes some time to get the jumpsuit off, and then we find his undergarments are saturated with blood as well. There's no choice but to strip him naked to get him clean.

We put down Finnick's mat and lay Beetee on his stomach so we can examine his back. There's a gash about six inches long running from his shoulder blade to below his ribs. Fortunately it's not too deep. He's lost a lot of blood, though—you can tell by the pallor of his skin — and it's still oozing out of the wound. I have no idea what to do, but I can tell by her expression that Katniss's brain is buzzing away to find a solution. I can't help but think of how the expression on her face is the exact same as her mother, on the night that Gale got whipped.

"Be right back," She says, getting up and pacing towards the jungle. She's back minutes later carrying an armful of moss.

She makes a thick pad out of the moss, place it on Beetee's cut, and secure it by tying vines around his body. We get some water into him and then pull him into the shade at the edge of the jungle.

"I think that's all we can do," She says

"It's good. You're good with this healing stuff," I say. "It's in your blood."

"No," She says, shaking her head. "I got my father's blood. I'm going to see about Wiress."

She helps Wiress, while I stay and watch Beetee. By the time We've rinsed out Beetee's jumpsuit, a shiny clean Johanna and peeling Finnick have joined us. For a while, Johanna gulps water and stuffs herself with shellfish while I try to coax something into Wiress. Finnick tells about the fog and the monkeys in a detached, almost clinical voice, avoiding the most important detail of the story.

Everybody offers to guard while the others rest, but in the end, it's Johanna and Katniss that stay up. I'm still feeling the after effects of hitting the force field, so I lie down without hesitation.

My dream is hazy, as if my eyes have become out of focus. I see the children that occupied my dream on that night back in the Capitol. Only this time, I never catch up with them to see their faces. They run, laughing through a forest, with me behind. Every time I brake in to a run, they get faster, always beyond my reach. Then I reach a clearing, where the little boy and girl are standing smiling. I reach out a hand, to touch the boys face, when I'm shaken awake. The ghosts of my children still lingering before my eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Get up," Says Katniss, shaking me, Finnick and Johanna awake. "Get up—we have to move." I can sense a kind of fierce urgency in her voice, so I do as she tells me.

Quickly she explains her theory, the arena is a clock. I can almost see the hands ticking around the twelve-sectioned face of the arena. Each hour begins a new horror, a new Gamemaker weapon, and ends the previous. Lightning, blood rain, fog, monkeys — those are the first four hours on the clock. And at ten, the wave. I don't know what happens in the other seven, but I know Katniss is right. Wiress had been trying to warn us with her constant "tick tocking," the movements of the invisible hands trigger a deadly force in each section.

Finnick and I are convinced, but Johanna doesn't seem to believe it. But even she agrees it's better to be safe than sorry.

We gather our possessions and get Beetee back in to his jumpsuit. I quickly run over to the edge of the jungle and pick up a large leaf. If Katniss and Wiress are right about the clock, we'll need a map to help us. By the time I get back to the group, Katniss has just woken Wiress.

"tick, tock!" She says in a panicked voice.

"Yes, tick, tock, the arena's a clock. It's a clock, Wiress, you were right," Katniss says. "You were right."

"Midnight." She says quietly.

"It starts at midnight," Katniss confirms.

Wiress nods at the blood rain. "One-thirty," she says.

"Exactly. One-thirty. And at two, a terrible poisonous fog begins there," Katniss says, pointing at the nearby jungle. "So we have to move somewhere safe now." She smiles and stands up obediently. "Are you thirsty?" She hands Wiress the woven bowl and she gulps down about a quart. Finnick gives her the last bit of bread and she gnaws on it.

Beetee's still pretty out of it, but when I try to lift him, he objects. "Wire," he says.

"She's right here," I tell him. "Wiress is fine. She's coming, too."

But still Beetee struggles. "Wire," he insists.

"Oh, I know what he wants," says Johanna impatiently. She crosses the beach and picks up the cylinder we took from his belt when we were bathing him. It's coated in a thick layer of congealed blood. "This worthless thing. It's some kind of wire or something. That's how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don't know what kind of weapon it's supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?"

"He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap," I say, remembering watching his games back in District 12 just after the quell was announced. "It's the best weapon he could have."

"Seems like you'd have figured that out," Katniss says. "Since you nicknamed him Volts and all."

Johanna's eyes narrow at her dangerously. "Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn't it?" she says. "I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were...what, again? Getting Mags killed off?"

I shoot a side ways glance at Katniss, and see that her fingers have tightened on the knife in her belt.

"Go ahead. Try it. I don't care if you are knocked up, I'll rip your throat out," says Johanna.

I take a mental to note, to keep Katniss and Johanna as far apart as possible. It seems like it's only a matter of time before one kills the other, and I'm determined not to let her kill Katniss.

"Maybe we all had better be careful where we step," says Finnick, shooting Katniss a look. He takes the coil and sets it on Beetee's chest. "There's your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it."

I pick up the now unresisting Beetee, "Where to?" I ask.

"I'd like to go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we're right about the clock," says Finnick. It seems as good a plan as any. Besides, I wouldn't mind the chance of going over the weapons again. And there are six of us now. Even if you count Beetee and Wiress out, we've got four good fighters.

We walk down the nearest sand strip, approaching the Cornucopia with care, just in case the Careers are concealed there. I doubt they are, because we've been on the beach for hours and there's been no sign of life. The area's abandoned, as I expected. Only the big golden horn and the picked-over pile of weapons remain.

I lay Beetee in the little bit of shade that the Cornucopia provides, and he calls out for Wiress.

She crouches beside him and he puts the coil of wire in her hands. "Clean it, will you?" he asks.

Wiress nods and scampers over to the water's edge, where she dunks the coil in the water. She starts quietly singing some funny little song, about a mouse running up a clock. It must be for children, but it seems to make her happy.

"Oh, not the song again," says Johanna, rolling her eyes. "That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking."

Suddenly Wiress stands up very straight and points to the jungle. "Two," she says.

I follow her finger to where the wall of fog has just begun to seep out onto the beach. "Yes, look, Wiress is right. It's two o'clock and the fog has started."

"Like clockwork," I say. "You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress."

Wiress smiles and goes back to singing and dunking her coil. "Oh, she's more than smart," says Beetee. "She's intuitive." We all turn to look at Beetee, who seems to be coming back to life. "She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines."

"What's that?" Finnick asks Katniss.

"It's a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there's bad air," Katniss says.

"What's it do, die?" asks Johanna.

"It stops singing first. That's when you should get out. But if the air's too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you." Katniss says sadly. I can tell that she doesn't want to talk about it. Dying songbirds probably remind her too much of Rue, and work in the mines probably brings up memories of her father. And Gale.

Johanna, Finnick, and Katniss pick over the remaining weapons from the Cornucopia, whilst I take out my leaf.

With the point of my knife I draw the Cornucopia on its little circle of sand, with the twelve strips branching out from it. I've just drawn two more circles to represent the waterline and the jungle, when Katniss leans over my shoulder.

"Look how the Cornucopia's positioned," I say.

"The tail points toward twelve o'clock," She says.

"Right, so this is the top of our clock," I say, and quickly scratch the numbers one through twelve around the clock face. "Twelve to one is the lightning zone." I write _lightning_ in tiny print in the corresponding wedge, then work clockwise adding _blood, fog,_ and _monkeys_ in the following sections.

"And ten to eleven is the wave," She says. I add it. Finnick and Johanna join us at this point, armed to the teeth with tridents, axes, and knives.

"Did you notice anything unusual in the others?" Katniss asks Johanna and Beetee, since they might have seen something we didn't. But all they've seen is a lot of blood. "I guess they could hold anything."

"I'm going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers' weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we'll stay clear of those," I say, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. Then I sit back. "Well, it's a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway."

They all nod in agreement, and that's when I notice it. The silence. Our canary has stopped singing.

I raise my knife in attack, and turn to get a glimpse of a dripping-wet Gloss letting Wiress slide to the ground, her throat slit open in a bright red smile. Katniss gets there before me, sending an arrow straight in to his right temple, whilst Johanna buries an axe blade in to Cashmere's chest. Brutus aims a spear at me, but Finnick knocks it away, although he takes Enobaria's knife in the thigh.

Katniss springs forward in pursuit of the District 2 tributes, who have disappeared round the Cornucopia. _oom! Boom! Boom! _The cannon confirms there's no way to help Wiress, no need to finish off Gloss or Cashmere. We're all round the horn starting to give chase to Brutus and Enobaria, who are sprinting down a sand strip toward the jungle.

Suddenly the ground jerks beneath my feet and I'm flung on my side in the sand. The circle of land that holds the Cornucopia starts spinning fast, really fast, and I can see the jungle

going by in a blur. I feel the centrifugal force pulling me toward the water and dig my hands and feet into the sand, trying to get some purchase on the unstable ground. Between the flying sand and the dizziness, I have to squeeze my eyes shut. There is literally nothing I can do but hold on until, with no deceleration, we slam to a stop.

I sit up, feeling incredibly queasy, and fall in to a fit of coughing. I look around to find my companions in the same condition. Finnick, Johanna, and Katniss have hung on. The three dead bodies have been tossed out into the seawater.

"Where's Volts?" says Johanna. We're on our feet. One wobbly circle of the Cornucopia confirms he's gone. Finnick spots him about twenty yards out in the water, barely keeping afloat, and swims out to haul him in.

I notice Katniss looking frantically around. "Cover me," she says, and before I can stop her she's dived in to the water.

I see that she's swimming towards Wiress's body, and I realise that she must have gone after the wire. She retrieves the wire just as the hovercraft descends, and swims back to shore.

Finnick's gotten Beetee back alive, although a little waterlogged, sitting up and snorting out water. He had the good sense to hang on to his glasses, so at least he can see. I place the reel of wire on his lap. It's sparkling clean, no blood left at all. He unravels a piece of the wire and runs it through his fingers. For the first time I see it, and it's unlike any wire I know. A pale golden colour and as fine as a piece of hair.

I look at the others' sober faces. Now Finnick, Johanna, and Beetee have all lost their district partners. Without warning, Katniss crosses to me and wraps her arms around me, and I don't hesitate to hug her back.

"Let's get off this stinking island," Johanna says finally.

There's only the matter of our weapons now, which we've largely retained. Luckily Katniss had the sense to tie the spile and tube of medicine tightly to her belt, with vines. Finnick strips off his undershirt and ties it around the wound Enobaria's knife made in his thigh; it's not deep. Beetee thinks he can walk now, if we go slowly, so Katniss helps him up. We decide to head to the beach at twelve o'clock. That should provide hours of calm and keep us clear of any poisonous residue. And then, Johanna, Finnick, and I head off in three different directions.

"Twelve o'clock, right?" I say. "The tail points at twelve."

"Before they spun us," says Finnick. "I was judging by the sun."

"The sun only tells you it's going on four, Finnick," I say.

"I think Katniss's point is, knowing the time doesn't mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of jungle as well," says Beetee.

She nods, "Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o'clock,"

We circle around the Cornucopia, scrutinizing the jungle. It has a baffling uniformity. I remember the tall tree that took the first lightning strike at twelve o'clock, but every sector has a similar tree. Johanna thinks to follow Enobaria's and Brutus's tracks, but they have been blown or washed away. There's no way to tell where anything is. "I should have never mentioned the clock," Katniss says bitterly. "Now they've taken that advantage away as well."

"Only temporarily," says Beetee. "At ten, we'll see the wave again and be back on track."

"Yes, they can't redesign the whole arena," I say.

"It doesn't matter," says Johanna impatiently. "You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?"

We randomly choose a path and take it, having no idea what number we're headed for. When we reach the jungle, we peer into it, trying to decipher what may be waiting inside.

"Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don't see any of them in there," I say. "I'm going to try to tap a tree."

"No, it's my turn," says Finnick.

"I'll at least watch your back," I say.

"Katniss can do that," says Johanna. "We need you to make another map. The other washed away." She yanks off a large leaf, and hands it to me.

A definite sense of unease fills me, as I watch Katniss and Finnick disappear in to the jungle. I remind myself that Katniss is armed, and with that bow and arrow she's lethal, so I get back to drawing the map. I've only drawn the basic shape of the Cornucopia, when I jump to my feet in horror.

A terrible piercing scream in emanating from the jungle. It's not Katniss though, I can tell. I hear her scream in my nightmares almost every night. No the screamer, sounds younger.

It takes a few moments for it to dawn on me who the screamer might be. Then I realise. It must be Prim.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"Prim!" I can hear Katniss screaming her name. Without hesitation I drop the leaf, and run forward to the jungle. I need to find Katniss, I need to reassure her, be there for her. I can't though. Both me and Johanna are thrown back to the floor when we try to break in to the jungle.

I scramble to my feet again, and gingerly put a hand in front of me. I feel smooth glass beneath my fingers, and I realise that Katniss and Finnick will be trapped inside until the hour is up.

"The Gamemakers must have put a barrier up," Beetee says quietly.

I turn to look at him, Johanna's jaw is clenched tight, her axe clutched in her hand.

"We can't just do nothing!" I shout panic flaring up inside me. I don't know what's in that jungle, only some hideous trick of the Gamemakers that's forcing Katniss to listen to the screams of her loved ones.

I grab my knife, and desperately try to smash the barrier. I can hear Johanna trying to hack at it with her axe, but it's no use. Neither of our efforts even make a dent in the obstruction.

After another few minutes, I see two figures coming through the jungle. Both Katniss and Finnick look as if they've lived a hundred life times of misery and despair. At the sight of us they both speed up, but I know full well that they won't be able to get out.

I put my hands on the transparent wall, my palms facing towards them.

"I'm so sorry, there's a barrier, we can't get through!" I say, desperately hoping that they can hear me. The wall might have cut off any possibility of sound getting through. I only heard Prim scream once, for all I know there could have been far more.

They don't hear me. Katniss takes the wall on her shoulder, Finnick gets it face on. Both bounce off, landing on the floor, blood spurting from Finnick's nose, a look of hopeless despair coming over Katniss's face.

I press my hand hard against the wall, and Katniss puts hers up to meet it. I can almost feel it through the hard smooth surface. I put my face close to the glass, hoping that she'll be able to read my lips.

"Just focus on me, focus on my face. They're not real, I promise you. Prim is safe. It will be over soon, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm waiting right here for you."

Then I see what's causing her anguish. Black birds land one by one in the branches of the surrounding trees. Then I realise, they are Jabberjays. The Gamemakers must have orchestrated them to make those terrible heart wrenching noises.

Finnick gives up at once, hunching on the ground, clenching his hands over his ears as if he's trying to crush his skull. Katniss tries to fight for a while, emptying her quiver of arrows on the birds. But everytime one drops dead, I see that another takes its place.

Finally she gives up. Curled up in a ball beside Finnick, hands fiercely clasped over her ears. And I'm helpless to do anything. All I can do is stand there and watch her as she completely breaks down.

And then, after what seems like days, the barrier disappears. I rush over to her and scoop her in to my arms, and hold her in my lap. I can feel that her muscles are rigidly tight in an iron grip. I rock her back and forth, whispering soothing words in her ears, but not knowing how much she's actually hearing. I'm relieved when I feel her slowly relax her body, but then the trembling begins. She's quivering all over with torment.

"It's all right, Katniss," I whisper.

"You didn't hear them," She answers.

"I heard Prim. Right in the beginning. But it wasn't her," I say. "It was a jabberjay."

"It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it," She says.

"No, that's what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer's eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren't Glimmer's eyes. And that wasn't Prim's voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying," I say.

"No, they were torturing her," She answers. "She's probably dead."

"Katniss, Prim isn't dead. How could they kill Prim? We're almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?" I say.

Seven more of us die," She says hopelessly.

"No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?" I lift her chin so that she has to look at me, "What happens? At the final eight?"

"At the final eight?" She repeats. "They interview your family and friends back home."

"That's right," I say. "They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they've killed them all?"

"No?" She asks, still unsure.

"No. That's how we know Prim's alive. She'll be the first one they interview, won't she?" I ask. "First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge," I continue. "It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we're the only ones who can be hurt by it. We're the ones in the Games. Not them."

"You really believe that?" She says.

"I really do," I promise. She looks over at Finnick and I follow her gaze. I see that he's starring at me and Katniss, as though transfixed by my words.

"Do you believe it, Finnick?" She asks.

"It could be true. I don't know," he says. "Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone's regular voice and make it ..."

"Oh, yes. It's not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school," says Beetee.

"Of course Peeta's right. The whole country adores Katniss's little sister. If they really killed her like this, they'd probably have an uprising on their hands," says Johanna flatly. "Don't want that, do they?" She throws back her head and shouts, "Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn't want anything like that!"

My eyes wide, and mouth drops open slightly in shock. No one, ever, says anything like this in the Games. Absolutely, they've cut away from Johanna, are editing her out. I feel a new found respect for Johanna. She'll never win any awards for kindness, but I have to admire her guts. She picks up some shells and heads toward the jungle. "I'm getting water," she says.

Katniss catches her hand as she passes, "Don't go in there. The birds—"

"They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love," She says shaking away Katniss's hand. I feel a pang of guilt, Johanna has clearly suffered far more than I anticipated. When she brings back the water, Katniss takes it with a silent nod of thanks.

While Johanna collects water and Katniss's arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. Katniss stays in my arms, clearly too shaken to move.

"Who did they use against Finnick?" I ask.

"Somebody named Annie," She says.

"Must be Annie Cresta," I say.

"Who?" She asks.

"Annie Cresta. She was the girl Mags volunteered for. She won about five years ago," I say.

"I don't remember those Games much," Katniss says. "Was that the earthquake year?"

"Yeah. Annie's the one who went mad when her district partner got beheaded. Ran off by herself and hid. But an earthquake broke a dam and most of the arena got flooded. She won because she was the best swimmer," I answer.

"Did she get better after?" She asks. "I mean, her mind?"

"I don't know. I don't remember ever seeing her at the Games again. But she didn't look too stable during the reaping this year," I say.

So Finnick isn't in love with any of his adoring fans in the Capitol. A poor mad girl back home, is the one he really loves.

A cannon blast brings us all together on the beach. A hovercraft appears in what we estimate to be the six-to-seven-o'clock zone. We watch as the claw dips down five different times to retrieve the pieces of one body, torn apart. It's impossible to tell who it was. I hope for Haymitch's sake that it wasn't Chaff.

I draw a new map on a leaf, adding a _JJ_ for jabberjays in the four-to-five-o'clock section and simply writing _beast_ in the one where we saw the tribute collected in pieces. We now have a good idea of what seven of the hours will bring. And if there's any positive to the jabberjay attack, it's that it let us know where we are on the clock face again.

Finnick weaves yet another water basket and a net for fishing, whilst Katniss takes a quick, puts some ointment on her skin, before cleaning the fish that Finnick catches. The bright moon is already on the rise, filling the arena with that strange twilight. We're about to settle down to our meal of raw fish when the anthem begins. And then the faces ...

Cashmere. Gloss. Wiress. Mags. The woman from District 5. I feel a stab of guilt as I see the morphling who gave her life for me. Blight. The man from 10.

Eight dead. Plus eight from the first night. Two-thirds of us gone in a day and a half. That must be some kind of record.

"They're really burning through us," says Johanna.

"Who's left? Besides us five and District Two?" asks Finnick.

"Chaff," I say, without really needing to think of it. I was hoping that he might come and join our alliance. I liked him training, and Haymitch trusts him. And I might as well admit it, I hate the thought of him out there on his own, unaware of the clock theory, being prayed on by Brutus and Enobaria.

A parachute comes down with a pile of bite-sized square-shaped rolls. "These are from your district, right, Beetee?" I ask.

"Yes, from District Three," he says. "How many are there?"

Finnick counts them, turning each one over in his hands before he sets it in a neat configuration. "Twenty-four," he says.

"An even two dozen, then?" says Beetee.

"Twenty-four on the nose," says Finnick. "How should we divide them?"

"Let's each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest," says Johanna. I don't know why but Katniss gives a slight laugh at this. Even more surprisingly Johanna gives her an almost pleased look.

We wait until the giant wave has flooded out of the ten-to-eleven-o'clock section, wait for the water to recede, and then go to that beach to make camp. Theoretically, we should have a full twelve hours of safety from the jungle. There's an unpleasant chorus of clicking, probably from some evil type of insect, coming from the eleven-to-twelve-o'clock wedge. But whatever is making the sound stays within the confines of the jungle and we keep off that part of the beach in case they're just waiting for a carelessly placed footfall to swarm out.

I don't know how Johanna's still on her feet. She's only had about an hour of sleep since the Games started. Katniss and I volunteer for the first watch because we're better rested, and because we want some time alone. The others go out immediately, although Finnick's sleep is restless. Every now and then I hear him murmuring Annie's name.

Katniss and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, her right shoulder, and hip are pressed in to mine. I watch the jungle, whilst she watches the water, which I know is better to her because she's still haunted by the Jabberjays. After a while she rests her head on my shoulder, and my hand caresses her hair.

"Katniss," I say softly, "it's no use pretending we don't know what the other one is trying to do."

She doesn't turn around. I can tell that she doesn't want to discuss it

"I don't know what kind of deal you think you've made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well. So I think we can assume he was lying to one of us." I say.

She raises her head, and meets my eyes. "Why are you saying this now?" She asks.

"Because I don't want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life," I say. "I would never be happy again." She starts to object but I put a finger to her lips. "It's different for you. I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people who'd make your life worth living."

I pull out the chain with the golden locket from around my neck, and hold it up to the moonlight. My thumb slides along the catch, and the disk opens. After what she heard today, I know that this will have an affect on her. I look at her face, as she see's their faces. Her mother, Prim, Gale…

"Your family needs you, Katniss," I say. My intentions are clear, Katniss will go home, marry Gale, and he will become her family. I can't pretend that the thought doesn't torment me, but when Katniss goes home, she'll need someone to piece her back together again. Someone to love her.

I don't mention the baby. If I do she'll only think that I'm talking for the cameras. I need her to believe what I'm saying.

"No one really needs me," I say, with no trace of pity in my voice. My family will mourn me no doubt, but they'll move on. My brothers will get married and have children of their own, my mother and father will carry on running the bakery. Life without me will carry on. But for me there will be no life without her.

"I do," She says. "I need you." I'm already fighting furiously to hold back tears, and her words cut through me like a knife. I take a deep breath, needing her to hear what I've got to say. But she silences me with a kiss.

I squeeze my eyes tight shut. I feel a rush of unexpected warmth, which floods through me. I feel like I did last year in the arena, when she kissed me for the first time. I try to break away to carry on talking, but after a few attempts I give in. I cling desperately to her, letting her flames surround me.

It's the first crack of the lightning storm—the bolt hitting the tree at midnight—that brings us to our senses. It rouses Finnick as well. He sits up with a sharp cry. I see his fingers digging into the sand as he reassures himself that whatever nightmare he inhabited wasn't real.

"I can't sleep anymore," he says. "One of you should rest." Only then does he seem to notice our expressions, the way we're wrapped around each other. "Or both of you. I can watch alone."

I won't let him though, "It's too dangerous," I say. "I'm not tired. You lie down, Katniss." She doesn't object, and I lead her over to where the others are.

I take the chain with the locket and put it around her neck. Then, knowing that the Capitol audience will be wondering why I'm not using my most persuasive argument, I put a hand on her abdomen. Right where our baby would be.

"You're going to make a great mother, you know," I say, before giving her one last kiss and returning to Finnick.

I wait until I hear Katniss lie still, and then I break down. Sobbing uncontrollably, whilst Finnick pats my shoulder. My tears fall on to the already damp sand in front of me, and I lose my head completely, desperately trying to suppress the choking noises I'm making.

And as I raise my tear filled eyes to look at the horizon, it's like I can almost see two children waving before walking away. Walking away in to non existence.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

At some point during the night, I eventually stop crying. Johanna wakes up shortly after, and she tells me to try and get some sleep. I lie down next to Katniss, listening to her softly breathing. I reach out and gently trace the arch of her eyebrows, then the curve of her nose, then her lips. I try to sleep, but somehow whenever I drop off, I jerk awake again instantly. In the end though, I drift in to an uneasy doze.

By the time I wake up, the only one still asleep is Katniss. Johanna, Beetee, and Finnick are sitting clustered together about a meter away. Finnick looks up and I join them.

"You alright Peeta?" He asks, with a hint of sympathy in his voice.

No, I don't think I'll ever be alright again. I don't say it out loud, but Finnick shifts his gaze away, clearly realising that it was a stupid question. In all honesty I feel slightly uncomfortable around Finnick, after pouring out so much of my emotion last night. But at this stage what does it really matter?

"Beetee's coming up with a plan to kill Brutus and Enobaria," Finnick says glancing over at Beetee, whose fiddling around with his wire. He looks up at me and nods quickly before going back to examining the thin chord.

"Look," says Johanna breaking the silence, and pointing upwards. A silver parachute descends on to the beach, just as Katniss wakes up and joins us.

It's identical to the one we received the night before. Twenty-four rolls from District 3. That gives us thirty-three in all. We each take five, leaving eight in reserve. No one says it, but eight will divide up perfectly after the next death.

Though Katniss sits next to me while we eat, she avoids making eye contact with me. I can't tell whether she's annoyed with me or not about something. Maybe she's embarrassed over our kissing last night. Although us kissing is hardly anything new, maybe the fact of how limited our time left together is, is starting to set in.

After we eat though, she takes my hand and tugs me towards the water.

"Come on. I'll teach you how to swim." She says.

Somehow I know that this isn't the real reason why she wanted to get me on my own, but nonetheless I oblige. She shows me a few basic strokes, and I go back and forth in waist high water.

Whilst I've been swimming Katniss has figured out a way to rid ourselves of the itchy scabs which have begun to peel. By gently rubbing a handful of sand up and down my arm, I clean off the rest of the scales, revealing fresh new skin underneath.

Whilst we scrub ourselves, Katniss starts to talk very quietly and very quickly.

"Look, the pool is down to eight. I think it's time we took off," She says.

I nod, thinking about her proposition. I don't think anyone expected there to be so few of us this early on in the Games. If we go now though, we'll be up against two, maybe three sets of adversaries, because I really don't know what Chaffs up to.

"Tell you what," I say. "Let's stick around until Brutus and Enobaria are dead. I think Beetee's trying to put together some kind of trap for them now. Then, I promise, we'll go."

"All right," She says, but I can see that she's not entirely convinced. "We'll stay until the Careers are dead. But that's the end of it." She turns and waves to Finnick. "Hey, Finnick, come on in! We figured out how to make you pretty again!"

The three of us scour all the scabs from our bodies, helping with the others' backs, and come out the same pink as the sky. We apply another round of medicine because the skin seems too delicate for the sunlight, but it doesn't look half as bad on smooth skin and will be good camouflage in the jungle.

Beetee calls us over, and it turns out that he has indeed come up with a plan. "I think we'll all agree our next job is to kill Brutus and Enobaria," he says mildly. "I doubt they'll attack us openly again, now that they're so outnumbered. We could track them down, I suppose, but it's dangerous, exhausting work."

"Do you think they've figured out about the clock?" Katniss asks.

"If they haven't, they'll figure it out soon enough. Perhaps not as specifically as we have. But they must know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they're reoccurring in a circular fashion. Also, the fact that our last fight was cut off by Gamemaker intervention will not have gone unnoticed by them. We know it was an attempt to disorient us, but they must be asking themselves why it was done, and this, too, may lead them to the realization that the arena's a clock," says Beetee. "So I think our best bet will be setting our own trap."

"Wait, let me get Johanna up," says Finnick, going over to wake a sleeping Johanna. "She'll be rabid if she thinks she missed something this important."

"Or not," I hear Katniss mutter.

When she's joined us, Beetee shoos us all back a bit so he can have room to work in the sand. He swiftly draws a circle and divides it into twelve wedges.

"If you were Brutus and Enobaria, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?" Beetee asks. There's nothing patronizing in his voice, and yet I can't help thinking he reminds me of a schoolteacher about to ease children into a lesson. Perhaps it's the age difference, or simply that Beetee is probably about a million times smarter than the rest of us.

"Where we are now. On the beach," I say. "It's the safest place."

"So why aren't they on the beach?" says Beetee.

"Because we're here," says Johanna impatiently.

"Exactly. We're here, claiming the beach. Now where would you go?" says Beetee.

"I'd hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us." Says Katniss

"Also to eat," Finnick says. "The jungle's full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I'd know the seafood's safe."

Beetee smiles at us as if we've exceeded his expectations. "Yes, good. You do see. Now here's what I propose: a twelve o'clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and at midnight?"

"The lightning bolt hits the tree," Katniss says.

"Yes. So what I'm suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o'clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted," says Beetee.

There's a long pause while we all digest Beetee's plan. Could it work? How can we even question it, we tributes trained to gather fish and lumber and coal? What do we know about harnessing power from the sky?

I take a stab at it. "Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power, Beetee? It looks so fragile, like it would just burn up."

"Oh, it will. But not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse, in fact. Except the electricity will travel along it," says Beetee.

"How do you know?" asks Johanna, clearly not convinced.

"Because I invented it," says Beetee, as if slightly surprised. "It's not actually wire in the usual sense. Nor is the lightning natural lightning nor the tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," she says glumly.

"Don't worry about the wire — it will do just what I say," Beetee assures us.

"And where will we be when this happens?" asks Finnick.

"Far enough up in the jungle to be safe," Beetee replies.

"The Careers will be safe, too, then, unless they're in the vicinity of the water," Katniss points out.

"That's right," says Beetee.

"But all the seafood will be cooked," I say.

"Probably more than cooked," says Beetee. "We will most likely be eliminating that as a food source for good. But you found other edible things in the jungle, right, Katniss?"

"Yes. Nuts and rats," She says. "And we have sponsors."

"Well, then. I don't see that as a problem," says Beetee. "But as we are allies and this will require all our efforts, the decision of whether or not to attempt it is up to you four."

We are like schoolchildren. Completely unable to dispute his theory with anything but the most elementary concerns. Most of which don't even have anything to do with his actual plan.

"Why not?" Katniss says, breaking the silence. "If it fails, there's no harm done. If it works, there's a decent chance we'll kill them. And even if we don't and just kill the seafood, Brutus and Enobaria lose it as a food source, too."

"I say we try it," I say. "Katniss is right."

Finnick looks at Johanna and raises his eyebrows. He will not go forward without her. "All right," she says finally. "It's better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they'll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves."

She's not wrong there, but I can't help but have faith in Beetee's plan. Besides, Katniss thinks we should go ahead, and I always trust her judgement

Beetee wants to inspect the lightning tree before he has to rig it. Judging by the sun, it's about nine in the morning. We have to leave our beach soon, anyway. So we break camp, walk over to the beach that borders the lightning section, and head into the jungle. Beetee's still too weak to hike up the slope on his own, so Finnick and I take turns carrying him. Johanna takes the lead, and Katniss brings up the rear, completing our group.

As we near the tree, Finnick suggests Katniss take the lead. "Katniss can hear the force field," he explains to Beetee and Johanna.

"Hear it?" asks Beetee.

"Only with the ear the Capitol reconstructed," She lies.

Then by all means, let Katniss go first," he says, pausing a moment to wipe the steam off his glasses. "Force fields are nothing to play around with."

The lightning tree's unmistakable as it towers so high above the others, and Katniss takes a bunch of nuts, throwing them in front of her. Then I hear a sizzle, and the nut is thrown back.

"Just stay below the lightning tree," I tell the others.

We divide up duties. Finnick guards Beetee while he examines the tree, Johanna taps for water, Katniss hunts nearby, and I gather nuts.

Shortly after I hear the ten o'clock wave, Katniss returns brandishing three tree rats. She draws a line below the tree to remind us to keep below it, but after my previous experience with force fields, I have no desire to go anywhere near it.

Katniss and I settle down, to roast the nuts and cubes of rat, whilst Beetee messes around the tree.

At one point he snaps off a sliver of bark, joins us, and throws it against the force field. It bounces back and lands on the ground, glowing. In a few moments it returns to its original colour. "Well, that explains a lot," says Beetee. I look at Katniss and we both have to suppress our laughter, since it explains absolutely nothing to anyone but Beetee.

About this time we hear the sound of clicks rising from the sector adjacent to us. That means it's eleven o'clock. It's far louder in the jungle than it was on the beach last night. We all listen intently. The sound is unnerving, and sends chills through me.

"It's not mechanical," Beetee says decidedly.

"I'd guess insects," Katniss says. "Maybe beetles."

"Something with pincers," adds Finnick.

The sound swells, as if alerted by our quiet words to the proximity of live flesh. Whatever is making that clicking, I bet it could strip us to the bone in seconds.

"We should get out of here, anyway," says Johanna. "There's less than an hour before the lightning starts."

We don't go that far, though. Only to the identical tree in the blood-rain section. We have a picnic of sorts, squatting on the ground, eating our jungle food, waiting for the bolt that signals noon.

At Beetee's request Katniss climbs up in to the canopy to observe the tree when the lightening strikes. He seems satisfied with her answer as she comes down, and I get a flicker of hope run through me. If this plan works, then we'll have eliminated two of the most deadly Victors. Surely I make sure that Katniss survives for the remainder of the Games?

We take a circuitous route back to the ten o'clock beach. The sand is smooth and damp, swept clean by the recent wave. Beetee essentially gives us the afternoon off while he works with the wire. Since it's his weapon and the rest of us have to defer to his knowledge so entirely, there's the odd feeling of being let out of school early. At first we take turns having naps in the shadowy edge of the jungle, but by late afternoon everyone is awake and restless. We decide, since this might be our last chance for seafood, to make a sort of feast of it. Under Finnick's guidance we spear fish and gather shellfish, even dive for oysters. Seeing as I only learnt to swim a few hours ago, I just watch the others while they dive.

Johanna keeps watch while Finnick, Katniss, and I clean and lay out the seafood. I prise an oyster open, and give a short laugh at what I see. A perfect glistening pearl, lies within the shell. _Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!_ The voice of Effie Trinket echoes in my head, as I remember the ridiculousness of her words last year. For all I know they could have gained the support of the sponsors that saved our lives.

"Hey, look at this!" I say, and hold up the pearl, "You know, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls," I say earnestly to Finnick.

"No, it doesn't," says Finnick dismissively. Katniss cracks up laughing though, clearly remembering Effie's cluelessness.

I rinse off the pearl in the water, and hand it to Katniss. "For you," I say as she takes it in her palm.

"Thanks," she says closing her fist around it, and she looks me straight in the eye. I see a shift in hers, a steely determination closes over her. I can tell what she's thinking.

The locket didn't work, did it?" I say, even though Finnick is right there. I don't care that everyone can hear me. "Katniss?"

"It worked," She says.

"But not the way I wanted it to," Not looking at her, cold sadness rolling over me. All this time I've been worrying about Enobaria and Brutus, but right now Katniss is my biggest adversary. It will be her who tries to sacrifice herself for me, and I can't let that happen.

Just as we're about to eat, a parachute appears bearing two supplements to our meal. A small pot of spicy red sauce and yet another round of rolls from District 3. Finnick, of course, immediately counts them.

"Twenty-four again," he says.

Thirty-two rolls, then. So we each take five, leaving seven, which will never divide equally. It's bread for only one.

The salty fish flesh, the succulent shellfish. Even the oysters seem tasty, vastly improved by the sauce. We gorge ourselves until no one can hold another bite, and even then there are leftovers. They won't keep, though, so we toss all the remaining food back into the water so the Careers won't get it when we leave. No one bothers about the shells. The wave should clear those away.

There's nothing to do now but wait. Katniss and I sit hand in hand, not saying a word. The time for words has gone, I had my chance last night. My chance to convince her how much her life is worth, how if she dies I'll never really live. But I had failed. I can almost hear the clock ticking away. Counting down the minutes until who knew what.


	25. Chapter 25

**Wow, okay so this is the final chapter of Catching Fire - The Boy With The Bread, I really hope you all enjoyed reading this story, and I wanted to thank everybody who has stuck with it until the end. Please let me know if you want me to write Mockingjay from Peeta's view, I've got a few idea's floating around, but I won't write it unless people want me to. Once again, please review to tell me what you liked and how I can improve. I really hope that you enjoy this final chapter. Thanks - Hermia :)**

Chapter 25

Gradually the sky darkens, and the anthem starts to play. There are no faces in the sky tonight, though it's pretty much guaranteed that there will be tomorrow. I don't really know how I feel about that fact. I don't want anyone else to die, I've seen so much death over the past year I don't think I can take anymore. But if Katniss is going to live, then death must come to every last one of us. The audience must be thirsting for blood by now, but Beetee's plan holds enough promise. I bet the Gamemakers must be as curious as we are to see if it actually works.

At what Finnick and Katniss judge to be about nine, we leave our shell strewn camp, cross to the twelve o'clock beach, and head off in to the depths of the jungle. The air itself feels thick and humid, and our full stomachs make the trek uphill even more uncomfortable.

Beetee asks Finnick to assist him, and the rest of us stand guard. Before he even attaches any wire to the tree, Beetee unrolls yards and yards of the stuff. He has Finnick secure it tightly around a broken branch and lay it on the ground. Then they stand on either side of the tree, passing the spool back and forth as they wrap the wire around and around the trunk. At first it seems arbitrary, then I see a pattern, like an intricate maze, appearing in the moonlight on Beetee's side. I wonder if it makes any difference how the wire's placed, or if this is merely to add to the speculation of the audience.

Just as the work on the trunk is complete, we hear a rushing of water far below, which can only be the ten o'clock wave. Time is starting to run out. This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. I feel a distinct sense of unease as he states how he wants Katniss and Johanna to take the coil through the jungle, unwinding it as they go. Then they are to lay it across the twelve o'clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle.

Well there's no way after the moment with the pearl that I'm going to willingly let her out of my sight. And although I know that the plan is our only option, I hate the thought of Katniss having such a huge and dangerous part in it. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her, especially seeing as it was my idea to not break the alliance until later.

"I want to go with them as a guard," I say immediately.

"You're too slow. Besides, I'll need you on this end. Katniss will guard," says Beetee. "There's no time to debate this. I'm sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now." He hands the coil to Johanna.

I can't argue with his logic, we established long ago that even when I had both of my legs I was too slow. That doesn't mean I like the sound of the plan any better.

"It's okay," She tells me. "We'll just drop the coil and come straight back up."

"Not into the lightning zone," Beetee reminds her. "Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you're running out of time, move over one more. Don't even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage."

She takes my face in her hands, and looks me straight in the eye. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight." She gives me a kiss, and before I can object any further, she lets go and turns to Johanna. "Ready?"

"Why not?" says Johanna with a shrug, "You guard, I'll unwind. We can trade off later."

As I watch the two of them disappear in to the darkness, a feeling of nervous tension fills me. So many things could go wrong with this plan.

"Peeta, you stand on the right side of the tree. Finnick, you on the left." Says Beetee, "Keep a close look out while I make some final checks on the wire."

I stand, knife poised, eyes straining in to the darkness. A thousand thoughts are flickering through my mind, none of them good. I can't help but feel incredibly guilty, that I watched as Katniss departed in to the darkness, with Johanna Mason. A woman who didn't even try to hide her hatred for Katniss.

I start to hear a clicking sound and realise that it must be after eleven and the insects have started. We wait in silence, Finnick breaking it about ten minutes later.

"Beetee," he says in a wary voice. I turn around to look at him. He's starring fixated on the wire, which minutes before had been stretched tight, and now lay quite loose.

"I think the wire's been cut," Finnick says so quietly it's almost a whisper.

The three of us stare at one another in horror, my grip on the knife that I'm holding tightens.

"Katniss," I choke out, my throat tightening. I look over at Beetee his eyes darting back and forth, the reality of the situation dawning on him. Well there is no way that I'm just going to stand here and let Katniss risk her life out there.

"We need to find Katniss and Johanna!" I say in a panicked voice. I stumble forward, but Beetee stops me.

"I need your knife Peeta," He says.

"What!" I shout, panic rising up inside me. Katniss is out there in danger, and all he cares about is my knife?

"Your knife Peeta," he says, even more insistently.

"I'm going to find Katniss," I say starting to move towards the tree's once again, but Finnick pulls me back roughly.

"Give him the knife Peeta," he says. There's something in their eyes that isn't quiet right, like they know something that I don't.

"Why should I!" I shout, the knife is my only weapon, and who know's what kind of danger Katniss is in. I haven't heard the canon yet though, I know she's still alive.

"Just trust us!" Finnick shouts, and he snatches the knife from me, and hands it to Beetee.

I have no idea what is going on, but I don't waste any more time. Katniss needs me. Leaving Finnick and Beetee behind, and run off in to the jungle.

"Peeta, wait!" Finnick shouts after me, but I ignore him.

"Katniss!" I scream, "Katniss!"

It's foolish I know, running through the dark jungle with know weapon, screaming at the top of my voice. But I don't care, my life only had a limited amount of time left anyway.

"Katniss!" I yell, hoping against hope that she hears me, and is unhurt.

I hear a rustling up ahead, although it's impossible to tell whether I imagined it or not. I squint in to the darkness, there's definitely something, or someone moving up there.

"Katniss?" I say hoarsely, and perhaps rather foolishly I start walking towards the shadowy figure.

"Peeta?" It says gruffly, it's not Katniss but I definitely recognise that voice. The man limps out from behind a tree, and walks in to the light of the moon. I gasp as I realise. It's Chaff.

"Peeta, boy am I glad to see you!" He says, slapping me affectionately on the shoulder, "I've been trying to find you and Katniss for days."

I gaze at him, he seems miraculously uninjured, despite a slight limp. His face his covered in grime, as well as a few scratches. To my relief I see he has an array of knives arranged in his belt.

"Chaff," I say breaking in to a brief smile, "say, can you spare a knife?"

"Sure," he says, handing me one from his belt. "Where is Katniss? I figured she'd be with you."

"I'll explain on the way," I say as start running again. I briefly explain Beetee's plan about trying to electrify the sea water, but how the wire must have been cut.

"I don't know where she is Chaff!" I say desperately, "I'm sure something's gone wrong!"

"We'll find her, I promise." Chaff replies.

I don't know how long it is that we run through the jungle, but suddenly Chaff falls to the ground. Thinking he's just tripped I carry on running, but when he doesn't immediately rejoin me, I double back.

What I see makes my blood run cold. Chaff is cowering on the jungle floor, a knife wedged deep in his thigh, the huge form of Brutus towering above him, spear raised.

"No!" I yell, and dart back to protect Chaff, but I'm too late. I'm not even half way back before Brutus launches the spear, and impales it in Chaff's chest.

Brutus doesn't wait, yanking the spear from Chaff, and with a sick smile on his face, he runs from the scene. Laughing and wooping with the satisfaction of his kill. I don't think he saw me or heard me, he must have been too 'caught up in the moment.'

I reach his side, and see that Chaff is breathing heavily, the gaping hole in his chest making me feel sick. I can see his lips moving, but I can't make out what he's saying.

"I'm so sorry Chaff!" I say hopelessly, trying to stem the flow of blood, thinking of Haymitch having to watch this.

"Go!" He hisses through gritted teeth, "go and find her, save her, save yourself. Don't let them take you." It sounds like every syllable is costing him a huge effort.

I give his hand a final squeeze, "I'm sorry, I could save you," the words sound so pathetic, but it's all I can say, before I go off in search of Katniss. The boom of the canon echoes through the silence, and I know that Chaff has just died.

"Katniss!" I yell at the top of my lungs. A soft laugh to my left, brings my head whipping round. Brutus stands there, lazily tossing his spear from his left hand to his right.

"Didn't you hear the canon loverboy?" He says with a sadistic grin. "She's dead, I killed her!" Then he throws back his head and laughs.

Anger surges up in me. "You killed Chaff! I scream at him, "I saw you kill him!" And then I lunge at him, frantically swishing at him with the knife Chaff gave me.

I see the slightest fleeting glimpse of panic in Brutus's eyes, before his expression becomes cruel and sarcastic once more. He should be able to beat me easily, spear in one hand, knife in the other, but I'm so fuelled by rage that we're evenly matched.

He throws the spear, but I manage to deflect it my knife, and it becomes lost among the trees. His knife slashes at my upper arm, making a deep cut, but I ignore it, pushing the pain down, and fighting back furiously.

"What's going to happen to her once I've killed you?" He yells at me, whilst I try to swipe at him. "I'll enjoy her! So young and fresh, I'll rip her limb from limb!" He screams with a hideous cackle.

"No!" I yell, "You won't hurt her! I won't let you!" and my knife makes contact with his stomach. I pull the blade out of the soft flesh, and Brutus falls to the floor clutching his gut.

"Katniss!" I shout as loud as I can, and I glance back down at Brutus. His lower torso is covered in scarlet blood. I know that he's hurt enough to not pursue me.

"Katniss!" I shout again, and I fight my way through the undergrowth.

"Peeta!" She screams out, "Peeta! I'm here! Peeta!" I hear her shout back. Relief floods through me like a torrent of water. I furiously follow the direction of her voice.

"I'm here! I'm here!" She yells, her voice seems much further away than I first thought. "Peeta!" She sounds desperate. She must be in trouble, why else would she be calling out like this?

Another canon goes off. Either Brutus has died from his knife wound, or…

"KATNISS!" I howl in utter desperation, but she doesn't answer. The tears are streaming down my face so fast, that I can barely see where I'm going. I'm disorientated, and I try to find my way to the lightening tree. I start sobbing, tearing through the vines in bitter desperation.

And then, the world is blown apart. The earth explodes into showers of dirt and plant matter. Trees burst into flames. Even the sky fills with brightly coloured blossoms of light. Have the Gamemakers had enough? Decided to end it all in an eruption of flame? But why? What was the trigger?

The force of the explosions has thrown me on to my back, and knocked all the breath out of me. I lie there, waiting for the end to come. Katniss is probably dead, so I don't want to live anymore. I want it to finish. But then the hovercraft appears in the sky above me, its metal claw drops down.

"_Don't let them take you" _Chaff's final words come back just as the metal claw slides underneath me, and I black out.

I wake up, and I'm blinded by whiteness. As my eyes slowly adjust I realise that I'm in some kind of hospital, the white tiled walls and floors glinting brightly. I try to sit up, but I'm strapped down to some sort of table. As I look around the room I see Peacekeepers in every corner, all clutching machine guns. I look down my body I see all sorts of wires and tubes sticking out of me.

"Katniss?" I croak.

A female Peacekeeper whispers something to her neighbour, and she leaves the room.

"Katniss!" I say louder, "Where is she?"

I start feverishly struggling against my restraints, just as a doors slides open and I see President Snow enter the room.

"Where's Katniss?" I shriek.

"She's in District 13 Peeta," Says President Snow. "She's gone, she's left you behind."

I stare at him incomprehensible. In District 13? She left me behind?

"What do yo—" I begin, but I never get the words out. The President nods at the Peacekeeper closest too me, who flicks a switch on a machine nearby.

My whole body convulses, consumed by the most intense pain I've ever felt. It feels like my blood, my very bones are on fire. Then the pain leaves me, as soon as it came.

Through all of it, I can only form one solid thought. _She left me behind. _


End file.
